Draco Malfoy and the Chamber of Secrets
by HiBob
Summary: Fear is nothing more than anger that can not find a direction.
1. All Things are Relative:  Part One

Chaos Theory tells us that a butterfly flapping its wings in China can cause rain to fall in Central Park in New York. In essence, only one small thing needs to change in order to produce over time a dramatic result. In this story, one small thing did happen differently. And because of this, in an Alternate Universe, JK Rowling is best known as the author of:

Draco Malfoy and the Chamber of Secrets

An alternative history of events compiled by HiBob.

Chapter One: All Things Are Relative, Part One

Draco grunted. He stretched and pulled. The bolt came loose. In a thrice, he had the carburetor free. He turned and placed it on the cart for Mick to work on after he finished the car he was working on.

"Whot now?"

Draco looked over to see a brown-haired girl perhaps nine years old.

She said, "Hi."

"Jennifer?" It was the sister of Justin Finch-Fletchley, Draco's best mate at school. "Whot you doin' here?"

"We came down, for the big surprise."

"Whot big surprise?"

"That we came down," Justin answered as he stepped up. "Mister Kowaleski told us not to tell you."

"You're dirty," Jennifer commented needlessly.

Mick's voice came from the next bay. "Dragon, clean up and have some fun."

"Thanks Mick."

Mick, AKA Michael Kowaleski, was Draco's boss for the summer. With his wife, Janice, spending most of her free time taking care of the new baby, and Cheryl was proving to be a handful, he needed the extra help. And Draco was more than happy to be there.

When Draco ran away, he was put into a home. Janice was a permanent fixture there already. She became his first friend. Mick was her boyfriend. He became Draco's second friend. Between them, Draco learned a few things. He learned to pick pockets, and locks. He learned to read. He learned how to keep a careful watch, and how to signal discreetly if trouble was coming, especially if trouble was wearing a badge. He learned to shuffle a deck of cards so that the Ace of Spades, or whatever card he chose, would always be on top. He learned petty larceny and where to sell stolen goods.

Draco also learned something else from them. He learned to change. The death of a friend changed his friends. They now owned a small auto shop and were trying to make an honest living. Mick had also done one other thing. After Draco had been thrown out of his old school for fighting, the boy found out his name had been put in for a scholarship. This gave certain people a convenient excuse to have Draco attend his new school. All Mick knew about the new school was its name. Hogwarts.

What Mick didn't know was that Draco was a wizard. Hogwarts was a school of Magic, specifically: The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And Draco couldn't tell him this. Until the school contacted him, Draco, and everyone else, believed he was an orphan. He originally was called Draco Atkins because he didn't know his last name. Everyone believed that the name Malfoy came from one of his fantasies. It didn't. That was the name on his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts.

As Draco washed up and changed, he could hear the Finch-Fletchleys downstairs. They were cooing over the baby. He knew Janice would be beaming at all the attention. Justin Finch-Fletchley was Draco's first real friend his own age. Except for a girl named Hermione Granger, but she was a girl and that wasn't exactly the same thing.

"Ain't as posh as your place," Draco commented as Justin looked in his bedroom. It was a small room with a cupboard. Half the space was taken up by the bed.

"You live here?" Jennifer asked in disbelief. "But it's smaller than my closet?"

"I thought your mum told you to stay downstairs?"

"It smells, too."

A voice came up from below at that moment. "Jennifer? What Did I Tell You?"

"Yes, Mummy." The girl frowned and climbed back down the narrow staircase to the area below.

"Sorry," Justin told his friend. "She never meets poor people, I mean . . ."

Draco hid his feelings. He knew he was poor. But he hid it with a smile. "Crisp it, Justin. I'm used to it. Truth is these old clothes yer mum gave me are the best clothes I ever owned. Except for me school clothes I ain't ever own anything new."

His last act of dressing was to put on his wristwatch, a Christmas present from Justin's family. They went down the staircase single file, not that there was a choice, and stepped into the combination parlor, living room, den and nursery. Draco looked around. Everything was used and old, but it was clean. Mister and Missus Finch-Fletchley had dressed down, he noticed, but they still looked better than anyone else. Janice didn't seem to notice. She was watching with a mother's anxiousness as someone else held her baby. Missus F was telling her that Cheryl was such a precious gift. Then Janice noticed Draco.

"Feel like a ball of chalk?"

"I guess. Where to?"

"Promised Miss Carmichael I'd drop by wit' the pictures. Can't now. The company."

Draco frowned. "Can't it wait. It's just pictures of a baby." It was the wrong thing to say. Without even a pause for Janice to react, he added. "On me way. Where's the pics?"

"Thank you," came the frosty reply, as Janice pointed to a small bag.

"I'll join you," Justin offered.

"It's a good ten blocks."

"I'll go, too," Jennifer told them.

"You'll stay here," Mister F told his now frowning daughter.

"Next time," Draco promised and the girl smiled again.

Draco couldn't help enjoying himself as he and Justin began their trek. Justin, with only jeans and a shirt, still felt out of place. But this was Draco's home. This is where the eleven year old boy had cut his teeth. Draco paused in his mental musings. It was the First of August.

"What's that?" Justin asked after they had walked two blocks and turned a corner.

Draco looked up. There was nothing unusual, for him that is. "Whot?"

"It looks like a giant dog. It seems to be watching us. Or am I paranoid?"

"You see 'im?" Draco was surprised. He had seen the shaggy black dog plenty of times in the past but no one else ever seemed to. Justin did. And Justin spotted it first. "I seen 'im all the time, but only me." He gave Justin a knowing look. "Until now."

Justin nodded slowly as he understood Draco's comment. The dog had something to do with magic. There was not much conversation after that. Both boys felt out of place. They also began to walk faster. Then they turned a corner and stopped.

"Why the rush, lads?" a snarling teenager said as he blocked the boys' path. His jacket, draped on his shoulders, opened slightly to reveal his hand and what it was holding. "I want ya to meet me Lady from Bristol."

Draco smirked. "Looks more like yer Black an' Decker, Nigel."

"Draco?" The teen's hand disappeared and came out from under of his jacket empty. The hand reached out and brushed the blond hair from the boy's forehead, revealing a lightning-bolt scar. "It is you, Draco. What's wit' the long hair an' the fancy clothes? They 'alf-inched?"

"Naw. I get a better stash of 'and-me-downs now. Mick got me inna this posh school up north. Oh, this is me mate, Justin. We're 'eadin' to see Miss Carmichael. Justin, this is Nigel. He 'elps keep strangers outa the neighborhood."

"You're doing a fine job," Justin said, half in fear.

"Oooh, a fancy one this is. Careful 'round here, Draco. Next bloke who stops ya might not remember yer name."

As they walked away, Justin shivered. "That was too scary."

"Nigel? Pistol don't even have bullets. It's a lighter 'e picked up at the Chemist for a couple of Quid."

"Not that. The dog. Draco, I could see it. It looked like it was going to attack, but when you started talking, it just sat down and waited. As though it knew what was going on. I think it's a watchdog."

Draco turned his head. The dog was across the road, pacing them. A watchdog? All this time? He had one other thought. Who wanted him watched?

They reached Grimauld place and turned the corner. Draco had to stop. It had been so long since he had been here, almost a year. In a voice choked with emotion, he said, "This is it."

Justin's voice held his disbelief. "You grew up . . . here?"

Draco nodded, and wiped away an unwanted tear. "Home."

They continued walking. Justin seemed to see everything but Draco saw the street of his memories. The occasional rat was only something to kick at. Whatever trash didn't rot or blow away would eventually be kicked out of sight or into the street for the sweeper to get, whenever it bothered to come through. As they walked up to the entrance, two boys looked up warily from where they were sitting on the steps. One was younger than Jennifer, blackish hair and the haunted look that most new arrivals had. The other looked Draco's age but taller, with short blond hair and a more resigned expression. He was a bit on the fat side but from the sag of his clothes he had lost most of it already. Fat didn't survive in this place. This one was another throwaway, just like Draco. He was here because he had no place to go.

"She in?" Draco asked the throwaway. The boy nodded. Draco and Justin slipped past him into the foyer. To the right was the kitchen, to the left was the recreation room. They walked down the long hallway. Draco knocked.

"Enter," the familiar voice said, and Draco opened the door. Everything looked the same, even Miss Carmichael, although she did have more grey in her hair. She looked at him and smiled. "If you take at least one step forward, your friend can enter the room and then you can introduce us." She smiled at Draco's blush and pointed him to a pair of chairs.

"Sorry." Draco ambled forward and handed her the bag. "We just came by to give you these. This is Justin. He's a mate from school."

Miss Carmichael looked up. "It is my pleasure, Justin. And I assume Draco has told you who I am?" Justin nodded. "And you do know why you're here?"

Draco stared in surprise when Justin answered yes. His surprise continued.

"Draco, why don't you and Master Finch-Fletchley sit down while I explain why you were tricked into coming here."

"You know 'im?"

"We've never met, but I do know of him." Miss Carmichael smiled as she opened the bag Draco had given her. "Can you control your curiosity while I first look at my goddaughter?"

Draco had to smile. His grin grew wider as the phrases, "What a darling," and "How adorable," filled the air. Finally she sat the pictures down and looked directly at the young blond boy. "Let me start by saying Happy Birthday."

"Whot?"

"I've checked. It's the first day of August. And you are now twelve."

"You know?"

Miss Carmichael was surprised this time. "You knew?"

"Yeah. Was 'bout the only thin' I could remember. Din't tell cause . . . How'd you find out?"

She opened a drawer and pulled out a thick, folded piece of paper. "From this?"

Draco took the paper and opened it. "Whot is it? Can't read this."

Justin looked over. "It's in French. It's your birth certificate." He pointed out the words with his finger. "This is to verify that Draco Malfoy was born this day, August 1st, at 12:58 AM

That's your mother's name, Lily Malfoy. And that's your father's name, Lucius Malfoy. According to this you were born in Calais."

Draco was horrified. "You mean I'm French?"

Miss Carmichael was laughing. "No, dear. You were only born there. I think that was the only time you were out of the country." Her laughter settled into a smile. "Now, if I were you, my next question would be HOW did I manage to find that document when you told me you made up that name."

Draco hid his thoughts very well. The last thing he needed to do was to explain how he found out what his last name was. "Alright, how?"

The woman smirked. "You are the master of understatement. Do you remember when you asked me about changing your name? You told me that Malfoy meant bad faith in French. But, as you've just shown, you did not even recognize the language when you saw it written down. I took a chance that it was a residual memory, something left behind that suddenly surfaced."

Justin jostled Draco's arm. "She means you knew it all along but never knew you knew it."

"Cor." It was true. He had said that and he didn't even think about it. It simply came out.

Miss Carmichael continued. "Inspector Givens was helpful when I told him about my suspicions. And Malfoy is not a common name. Our first clue was when we discovered you were born out of the country. That would have been shortly after you left for school. And it was only a short time later that I had the good fortune to receive a reply to my inquiries from General Registrar's office. It seems that I opened up a can of worms."

Draco asked with a laugh, "You caused trouble?"

"Yes, I did. And even now I'm not sure that I regret it. We found your parent's death certificates, as well as your legal transfer of guardianship to your mother's sister, one Petunia Dursley. The General Registrar contacted me when their records failed to turn up anything else about you. That is when Inspector Givens' superior stepped in. He made it into a legal investigation."

Draco's jaw was open. She had even found out about the Dursleys.

"What happened?" It was Justin who asked.

"According to the report of the local investigator, when he had his interview neither your aunt nor her husband were able to give coherent answers. A cursory search of the premises showed that the understair cupboard had been converted at one time into a . . . I believe he used the word, cage. A more extensive inspection of the cupboard, including pulling up a couple of loose floorboards, produced evidence that a child had once been in there, evidence that a child had been in there for a significant period of time." All of this was said in a toneless voice. "It's amazing what you can find out once you know what you're looking for."

Draco looked over at Justin. Justin was clearly disturbed by what he had heard. "Hey, good thing Hermione ain't here. She be cryin' 'er eyes out."

It worked. Justin laughed as he shook his head. "Not her. She be demanding their heads. I mean," his voice became serious, "I've heard about things like that, but to know someone it happened to."

"I remember running away," Draco said dryly. "All I remember is 'avin' to leave." He suddenly laughed. "And Given's kneeling in front of me, saying, "'ello, Sunny Jim." His smile faded as he turned back to Miss Carmichael. "What happened to 'em?"

"The Dursleys are still awaiting trial, not that you need to be overly concerned. It will all be handled by the courts. They are keeping me informed because I am a concerned party and, if you like, I will let you know the results."

Justin replied, "I hope they get everything they deserve."

"One of them won't." Miss Carmichael was looking at her desk.

"Whot?"

"One of the Dursleys, Draco, will be hurt, is being hurt, by all of this. They have a son, a few weeks older than you are. Until this case is resolved, and perhaps longer, the parents are not permitted to care for their boy."

Draco frowned. "But 'e 'as relatives." A pause. "Don't 'e?"

"An aunt," Miss Carmichael acknowledged. "She was contacted about taking custody of her nephew but she was preparing for a vacation and told the authorities to take care of him until her return."

Justin snorted. "That's a joke. Right?"

The woman shook her head. "Sadly, no. The lady in question fully expected the government to do exactly that. When she returned a fortnight later she was outraged that a judge had ruled her unfit as well. After that happened, there was the incident of the boy's parents trying to visit him without proper supervision. That, in turn, was followed by an incident between the boy and a schoolmate. The other boy required hospitalization. After that, the child was removed from the area completely and sent elsewhere, away from everything familiar to him." A hand held up said to wait before making any comments. "I should tell you that the boy did have his parent's attitude, making it very difficult for most of the people involved to feel any sympathy for him. He was very much his father's son."

As am I, Draco thought idly. He looked up at Miss Carmichael, who seemed to be thinking about something. After a pause she looked up again.

"You've never had a birthday party before."

Draco's eyes lit up as the obvious finally registered. That was the surprise. That was why Justin was here. That was why Mick suddenly had the idea, last week, of cleaning up the yard behind the garage. Everyone already knew about his birthday. Draco laughed at the irony. He thought no one knew, and everyone thought he didn't know.

"You're comin'?"

"Later. I have work to do. A possible placement. And I might bring a couple of guests. They would enjoy a party."

Draco didn't have to ask anything. Odds were the couple of guests were the ones sitting outside. And he knew, if he were still here, he would love the chance to do something even if he didn't know anyone else. Miss Carmichael cleared her throat and Draco looked up again.

"Whot? Do I 'ave to agree?"

"Janice already said yes. I thought you might like to put an end to this maudlin conversation and go back to see if the other guests have arrived yet."

Draco's eyes were dancing. He glanced at Justin. The other boy nodded. He said a quick goodbye and started to run out of the office. He stopped and walked back to the desk when Miss Carmichael called him, told him not to run, and handed him his Birth Certificate. Document in hand, he said another quick goodbye and left with the intent of getting back to Mick and Janice as quickly as possible.

* * *

"It's cultural shock, Draco," Hermione Granger insisted. "I mean, I knew you were poor, but . . ."

"I know. Poor sounds a lot better than it looks."

"I should apologize, but . . . your bedroom doesn't even have a window."

"Sure it does." Draco took her into his bedroom and closed the door. He reached into the cupboard to move aside the shirts that were now hanging there (thanks to Justin growing two inches) and showed her. "See. Took the door off so it woun't block the sunlight. Beside, it's only for the summer. Mick's making a go of the shop and 'e's saving the money. Next summer, both me an the baby'll 'ave proper rooms."

Hermione shook her head. It was still too much for her. They went downstairs and out the back door. All of the old car parts had been tossed in one corner and there was plenty of room for the party. Janice was sitting at the picnic table, a wide flat board supported by two old oil drums. She was holding Cheryl. The Granger and Fitch-Flechley mothers were cooing over the baby while the fathers were with Mick by the makeshift barbeque.

Justin and Jennifer looked up in relief as the two returned. Now they were free to leave their mother's watchful eye. Draco offered to give them the tour of the shop, more as an excuse to get away than because everyone was interested. As they had to walk through the kitchen, a stop by the fridge gave everyone something to drink to keep them cool. (It was a perfect summer day: sunny and hot.) Through the den, and the office then into the garage. But when they reached the office Draco glanced out the window.

The dog.

The shaggy black dog was sitting across the road, watching.

"Hermione, do ya see that dog?"

"Yeah?"

"He's here?" Justin asked.

"What dog?" Jennifer asked as she looked out. She was upset when her brother explained that it was a magic dog. That only witches and wizards could see it. She kept looking out the window when everyone else went into the garage. Then she shouted. "Justin. There's people there now. They just appeared."

As he was standing by the switch, he turned it so that the bay door would open. Draco truly experienced mixed emotions. Three people were walking across the street. The man leading the way was one of his teachers, Professor Black. Behind him, grinning widely, were Fred and George, the Weasley Twins.

Hermione gasped. "How are we going to keep magic a secret with them around?"

"It's only his friends," Jennifer offered.

"For now," Hermione said and pointed to a car that was pulling up. It was Inspector Givens.

"Draco," Professor Black said with mock friendliness. He held out his hand. "Happy Birthday."

Draco took the proffered hand. "Thank you, Professor."

Fred snickered. "You should try to sound like you mean it."

At that moment, Inspector Givens stepped up with his wife and daughter.. He nodded politely to Black. "It seems I'm not late after all." He held out his hand and also wished Draco a Happy Birthday. He turned to the other man and introduced himself and family. He knew Draco well enough not to rely on good manners. Sirius Black returned the honours, which included the Weasleys and that he was their escort.

Givens nodded politely. "You're one of Draco's teachers?"

"Ethics."

Givens cocked an eyebrow at the man. "Did he pass?"

"He did outstanding," George offered helpfully.

"Really?" Givens had both eyebrows raised. "And he did this honestly?"

"There was nothing we could actually prove," Sirius Black said seriously.

"Ah, I see."

"And may I ask what you do, Mr. Givens."

"It's Inspector Givens. I'm Draco's parole officer. And call me Andrew."

Professor Black cast a laughing smile at Draco. "And I'm Sirius."

Draco pointed to the office and spoke in a monotone voice. "Through there. Turn left. Go straight. Everyone's out back and the beer's in the coldbox."

After the two men left, Fred had to ask what a parole officer was. He knew. But he just HAD to ask.

* * *

"What's this?" Fred asked innocently.

"Look," George said, "it's attacked to this knob. He then turned said knob.

"I felt something," Fred exclaimed loudly, knowing that almost everyone was watching them. "George, I think I understand. To operate this device, you pull on this handle."

"DON'T." Hermione was adamant. "You know very well what will happen."

"Poor boys like us?" George asked. "We don't even have running water where we live."

Fred pointed the device at Hermione. Hermione glared back.

"Put down that hose. NOW."

Fred looked nervous. He lowered his hand so the nozzle was pointing to the ground. Then he shrugged his shoulders. Quicker than the grin he flashed, he raised the nozzle and pulled the handle. Hermione screamed as the cold water hit her. Before Hermione could react, Jennifer demanded to be next.

For most of an hour, water was flying everywhere except the table and the grill. By then, the food was ready. Miss Carmichael arrived with the two boys, as Draco suspected, but she had another guest with her. Draco smiled at the familiar face.

"Wotcha, Mahresa."

The girl looked at Draco, who was dripping wet, and laughed. "Wotcha, Draco. Happy Birthday."

* * *

It was night. Everyone would be leaving soon. Most of the food had been eaten, and all of the birthday cake. The adults were inside, as was the young boy Miss Carmichael brought. The boy never said a word the entire time he was here, Draco remembered.

"That was fun," Hermione said, sleepily. She shot a glance at Fred. "All of it."

"It was," Fred admitted. "We had a great time, Dragon."

Draco snorted. Mick had called him that, and now Fred and George made it a point to do the same. What would happen, Draco mused, when they returned to school."

It was Mahresa who spoke next. She spoke to the throwaway. "Did you have fun, Dudley?"

The boy nodded. "Haven't had a chance for fun in a while."

Mahresa gave a light laugh. "I know. We have to grab it whenever we can." Draco watched as Mahresa nodded her head in his direction while still looking at Dudley. Dudley shook his head, to say no.

"Whot?" Draco asked.

Dudley answered while he and Mahresa kept eye contact. "She was afraid I wouldn't like you." He turned to look at Draco. "You're a decent chap in my book.."

Draco shrugged his shoulder. "I'm glad someone thinks so."

Justin laughed. "Don't worry, Dragon. Wait until he knows you."

"Thanks," Draco muttered.

The calls came from the parents. The party was over. Hermione hugged Draco and whispered that she was going for her school supplies on Saturday. They agreed to meet at the bookstore.

Mahresa and Dudley were the last to leave. That was no surprise. Miss Carmichael would want to spend as much time as she could with Cheryl, even if the baby was only sleeping.

"You don't know," Dudley said as the three stood outside the door to the kitchen.

"Know what? The big secret between you an' Mahresa? You fancy her?"

"All the boys do," Mahresa answered playfully.

"I'm Dudley . . ."

"I know," Draco told him.

"Dursley."

Draco froze. Vague memories swam through his head. Nothing he could remember clearly. But all the memories shown, not hate, but a callous disregard. The memories said that Dudley had been taught not to care about Draco.

"I thought you'd 'ate me, for what 'appened."

Dudley nodded. "I did. At first. I didn't even remember you. And I didn't even care when they told me about the cupboard being . . ." he faltered.

"A cage," Draco supplied.

"Yeah. Didn't care then."

"So, What 'appened ta change your mind?"

"Ritchie," Mahresa answered.

"Ritchie?" Draco repeated.

"Him," Dudley acknowledged. "Ritchie knows about cages, too."

Draco staggered as if struck. It was one thing to know that something terrible happened to you. It was another to find out that it also happens to other people.

"Draco?" It was Mahresa. She had seen his reaction. "He's safe, now. He has friends."

For a brief second, Draco was elsewhere. He was younger than Ritchie. He was in a strange place, with strange people. He knew no one. A skinny girl twice his age, with her hair cropped as close as his was, looked down at him. She told him he was short. He apologized. She asked him why. There was nothing wrong with short. Short could be useful. She sat down on the floor and forced him to sit down as well. She pointed out that children only stayed here for seven days and he had been here for eight. That meant that he was safe to know since he wouldn't be disappearing anytime soon. As of right then and there, he was her friend. Her name was Janice.

"Yeah." Draco smiled. "Ya can always count on frien's."


	2. All Things are Relative:  Part Two

A/N: My thanks to everyone who has enjoyed the story so far. I will be posting this, hopefully, at the rate of one chapter per week, as I have one day off per week until the next holiday. For those who are interested, the final Malcolm story should be ready by the time this story is finished posrting.

Chapter 2: All Things Are Relative, Part Two

Draco Malfoy walked confidently down the stairs. Dressed casually in jeans and an oversized vest, to hide his wand, he walked through the den, pausing only to see if Cheryl was awake. He walked quietly away and into the office where Janice was sitting.

"Still asleep," He told her.

"Not for long. I know her routine by heart." Janice nodded toward the garage. "The Professor's in there talking to Mick. Funny man. Don't know much about cars."

"'e knows all about cars. Ya get in 'em an' tell the driver where to take ya."

Draco stepped through the last doorway to hear Professor Black's last comment. "I did recognize him when he walked into my classroom. Even then, it took me a while to remember where I knew him from."

Black turned as Mick looked up from under the hood. "And here's the birthday boy."

Mick grinned. "Dragon, 'e's gettin' better. 'e sounded like 'e meant it that time."

Sirius Black had made sure that everyone knew Draco wasn't his favorite student. It saved him the difficulty of trying to be nice. He also let everyone know that he was there only because he had a house in the neighborhood that he stayed at during the summer holiday. At Mick's remark, even Black had to grin. Draco's friends were not surprised that someone would dislike him.

"Shall we go?" the professor asked. "It's already gone past one."

"Jus' tryin' to put it off," Draco told him.

Black held up his hand as though he was taking an oath. "I promise you, Mister Malfoy, if I can palm you off on someone else, I will."

"Thanks, Professor. You're not 'alf bad after all."

Sirius Black led the way. Draco was curious that they would be walking toward Grimmauld place. Black told him that was where they were going. He reminded Draco that he lived in the area, and the boy was going to learn, despite certain misgivings, exactly where he lived. He then asked Draco a question.

"Do you have any money with you?"

"Yeah. Some."

"Twenty Galleons? Wood told me he owed you for winning Gryffindor the House Cup."

Draco smirked. "That's right. Me best work. Better'n stealin' that stone."

Black wasn't grinning. "I want to know how you did it? I asked everyone. Including Professor Snape. He told me to tell him if I ever found out."

"Hey! I offered to give back the win. He woun't even take 'alf the bread an' 'oney. Din't mean for him to lose."

"And how did you get those house points?"

Draco's smirk became more serious. "Ain't tellin' you. 'at's a professional secret." He shrugged meaningfully. "Might 'ave to do it again, you know."

Black nodded his head as though that was the response he expected.

"Professor?"

"What?"

"That dog yours?"

Black almost missed his step. "Dog?"

"The one only I can see. Seen 'im for as long as I can remember. Justin's sister was lookin' for it when she spotted you an' the twins."

"Yes. That one's mine." He didn't pause for Draco to comment. "I told you I live in the area. You might have seen me around on occasion. I didn't have the beard then. I grew it for my position at Hogwarts."

"Looked familiar," Draco noted. "Couldn't place you, though."

Draco didn't comment on the obvious. Sirius Black had been keeping an eye on him for years. Just in case. As Draco mulled on that thought, the two walked on in silence. Neither cared to have a conversation with the other. As they turned in to Grimmauld Place, he thought of another question. "'ow'd you manage to get Fred and George to come to me birthday party? I figured their folks would never let 'em around me."

"Hermione Granger. She owled the Weasleys and told them an exaggerated version of how you stopped . . . You-Know-Who. She also suggested that, believe it or not, the Weasley twins were a good influence on you. Arthur was the one who told me about your deal with Oliver Wood. Your success, and the fact that you won't tell anyone how you did it, made him and Molly very curious about you. Any more questions?"

"Yeah. We walked past 'alf a dozen people I know, an' not one noticed us. You do that?"

"It's safer walking in this neighborhood if people don't notice you."

Draco smiled at the thought. It would make things easier if he could do that. Apparently, Black saw his smile and knew what he was thinking.

"I promise to make sure you never learn that little trick."

He grabbed Draco's shoulder as they walked past the home and forced the boy to make a sharp turn. Suddenly the houses seemed to move and another house was there between the home and its neighbor.

"Cor."

"Helps to keep unwanted visitors away. And no. You can't come to visit me any time you want. I have to let you in."

He opened the door and ushered Draco inside. It was a comfortable looking house, and barely clean, making it obvious that the man lived alone. Black led him into the living room and ordered him to wait. He walked up the stairs leaving Draco free to look around.

The large fireplace was the main feature on one wall, with a comfortable looking couch and chair facing it. On the mantle were pictures of the Professor's friends, some of whom Draco knew. Such as the Potters and the Longbottoms. There was also a group picture, from Black's school days by the looks of it, of him and Potter with two other boys. Next to it was a more recent picture.

Draco cast a glance into the kitchen which seemed small but functional. He started when he saw something in there staring at him. A short creature, pointed ears and nose, graying hair covering most of its body. It looked like it was wearing a dirty towel wrapped around its waist.

"Whot kind of creature are you?"

"Kreacher is Master's servant," it said with a hiss.

Draco gave it a friendly grin. "I see you don't like him, either. Can't you quit?"

"Kreacher is owned by Master." It seemed confused by Draco's attitude. "Are you friend of Master?"

"I'd be lyin' if I said yes. I'm stuck wit' 'im as me chaperone." Draco shrugged his shoulder. "So, your name's Kreacher? I'm Draco."

Kreacher hissed. "Malfoy? Malfoy is evil." Again a confused look. "But Master hates Malfoy?"

"KREACHER," Black suddenly yelled as he came down the stairs. "GET OUT OF HERE." He walked over to Draco. "And you should learn to stay put."

He pulled Draco away from the Kitchen and to the fireplace. Reaching into a small pot hanging on the side, he grabbed a handful of powder. "Now, have you ever traveled by floo before?" Draco shook his head. "I'm going to throw the floo powder into the fireplace and call out our destination. When the flames turn green, step into the fireplace." His tone became forceful. "And don't run off until I get there." He tossed some powder into the flames and called out, "The Leaky Cauldron."

Draco stepped in, keeping his hands to his side as he was told. He felt like he was dropping through a stone chute at great speed. Suddenly, he found himself tumbling out of another fireplace and sprawling on the floor. He heard the fire behind him flare up. A moment later, strong hands pulled him to his feet.

"That wasn't too bad?" Black asked.

"A bit scary. Din't know what was goin' to 'appen."

Black deliberately put his hand on the boy's shoulder as the publican looked up. "He's with me, Tom. There won't be any trouble."

Draco turned. "From me or them?"

Black mouthed the word, 'you', and with his free hand pointed in the direction to go. With the hand firmly on his shoulder, Draco walked quietly to the back door which led to Diagon Alley. A cursory glance showed most of the patrons to be more amused at him than angry. The confrontation that Draco expected once he knew where he was going became . . . nothing. They walked through the door and were shortly facing another brick wall. This wall, when tapped with a wand, would become the portal entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Why are you wit' me? Could've come by meself."

Black wasn't amused by the question. "Dumbledore asked me to watch you. You are not to be alone in any magical environment. I will be your escort unless, as I've said, I can pass you off to someone else."

"Loverly," Draco said insincerely. "Jus' 'ope 'mione's 'ere like she said she be."

"So do I." Sirius Black tapped the wall in the proper pattern and the archway opened up. "Shall we start here and work our way down? Or head directly to the bookstore in hopes that Miss Granger is there? Something we both would appreciate."

Draco didn't have to say anything. If Hermione was here, the bookstore was the obvious place to start. She planned on arriving about one. Hermione tended to be accurate.

As they neared Flourish and Blotts, Black again grabbed Draco's shoulder and told him, softly but firmly, to stop. There was something starting to happen outside of the bookstore.

There was a line out front but that didn't bother him. Harry Potter was standing there with his family. That did bother him. They looked like they were waiting for someone, probably the Longbottoms. But they weren't looking around. They were watching the scene further away from the entrance. Potter's father was stepping forward to intervene.

Past them were some of the Weasleys: Ron, the twins and their sister. They were talking to a pair of adults with two boys, and it didn't seem friendly. Draco recognized the two boys. Theodore Nott, a Slytherin in his year, and his older brother. He assumed the tall woman with the pale blond hair and snooty expression must be their mother. The man, by Draco's guess, was Theodore's grandfather. The woman was holding out a book or two. It was hard to tell. The Weasleys were angry.

"Wait here," Black told Draco, and walked past him toward the group.

"Not supposed to be alone for any reason," Draco snipped as he kept step with the man.

By the time they were halfway there, Draco knew what was going on, although he would be hard pressed to say why. The woman shoved the books at the youngest Weasley and made a loud angry comment about only offering to help. James Potter yelled back that they didn't want any help.

The remaining Potters began approaching the group. At the same time, the Weasley parents came hurrying out of the bookstore. Draco hurried his steps to get in on the fun.

"Would you mind telling me what you are doing, Nott?" Mister Weasley said angrily.

"Offering to help," Mister Nott said evenly, "but some people don't appreciate it."

Missus Nott snorted as Weasley became red in the face. "It won't break us to buy a few extra books. And we know what you make, Arthur. Why do you have a problem?"

"A PROBLEM? WITH YOU?" Weasley and Nott looked ready to fight each other. James Potter placed himself at Weasley's side, saying, "Calm yourself, Arthur."

Suddenly a lady's voice was heard above the noise. "It's called charity, Cissy, and some people find it offensive if they don't truly need it." A black-haired woman, with heavy lidded eyes and a hard-edged smile, came out of nowhere, or so it seemed, and walked up to Missus Nott, the woman she called Cissy. She clasped the blond woman's arm and turned to the Weasley's. "Honestly, I'm sure they meant your family no harm, Arthur. And if I know my sister, it was her idea. And you know how . . ." She started to say something else, ". . . strong willed she is once she gets an idea into her head." She added in a stage whisper, "I'm sure she doesn't even understand how she offended you. But I will explain it to her, later." She looked at her sister as she took the books from her hand. "I'll be talking to you." The woman called Cissy looked past her sister at the gathering crowd. Spying Draco, she gave him a look of pure hatred. She turned back to her sister and said something too softly to be heard. The family left with Mister Nott muttering loudly about trying to be nice.

Having sent the Nott family on their way, the dark-haired woman then turned to the Weasleys. "Please forgive them, Arthur. They mean well, but they can be crass at times and not even realize it."

Arthur Weasley's look did not change. "I think it's because we have different ideas about what it is to 'mean well', Bellatrix."

Bellatrix lowered her eyes. "I'm not one to talk, as you well know, especially you, James."

James Potter spoke, "And I, for one, don't appreciate such familiarity, Missus LaStr–"

"BLACK." Bellatrix shouted the word. Then she seemed almost ready to cry. "I haven't used that name since . . ."

Draco was surprised that it was Molly Weasley who spoke. "We all know since when." She now stood between the two men and the woman. "Bellatrix BLACK sent them packing so there wouldn't be any trouble. We should thank her for that. She isn't asking us to socialize. She's only trying to be polite." She turned around. "Thank you. We all know it could have been worse."

The black-haired woman turned to look in the direction her sister had left. "In more ways than one." She sighed as she turned her head back until she was looking directly at Draco, "She could have noticed you earlier, my darling boy."

Potter could be heard groaning as he noticed Draco for the first time. His father muttered something about bad blood all around. He gave a polite nod to Sirius Black then ushered his family away, to the bookshop entrance. One of the brood, a boy Draco guessed to be ten, gave Draco a curious look, biting on his lower lip as he did so. The Weasleys excused themselves and began to usher their children away as well with the comment, "Ginny still needs a wand." She gave Draco a friendly smile when she looked at him. Fred paused long enough to tell Draco that Hermione was inside. That left Draco with Sirius Black and the woman. Bellatrix Black looked as though she were laughing at Draco.

"You ain't 'is sister?" Draco asked.

"Cousin," Bellatrix answered, smiling. "And you are the very image of your father, Draco, although you do have your mother's eyes."

"Bella," Sirius said sternly.

The woman turned to her cousin with a stern look as well. "The Minister has lifted his decree about keeping Draco innocent," she smiled snidely, "not that the term ever applied from what I've heard. I'm going to tell him. Right now. And you won't stop me."

A shout of "Mummy" and everyone turned toward the bookstore entrance, where the line was slowly moving forward. A lanky young boy was running toward them. "Mummy, they have it." He gave a quick nod, and said with strained politeness, "hello, Cousin Sirius." He turned. "Hello." He turned back to his mother.

Bellatrix Black beamed at the boy. "Casper, this is Draco Malfoy. I've told you about him."

Casper's face filled with delight. "Are you really? We have something in common. We share the same birthday. I'm two years your junior, I know, but . . . I was proud when Mummy told me how we were related."

Draco stared at the expectant smile. With an effort, he mumbled the word, "Related?" He looked with a sense of fear at Sirius. "I'm related to you?"

Bellatrix laughed in delight as Sirius frowned. "Distantly, dearest. Not anything to worry about." Laughter and frown deepened as Draco gave an exaggerated sigh. "Only to me and, thus, indirectly to my son."

Casper looked surprised. "Mummy? He doesn't know?"

Bellatrix playfully put her hand over her son's mouth. "He will if you would give me a chance." She smiled at Draco. "I have the honour of being your Godmother."

Draco gasped. He remembered learning that Sirius Black was Harry Potter's godfather. He remembered asking Professor Snape, or should he say Uncle Severus, about being his godfather. And he remembered the answer. This was something he had not even thought about. And he was delighted. He faced Sirius Black.

"I'm wit' someone, now. Ya got lager an' lime for your mates."

"Malfoy." Sirius Black was about to give him a warning.

"Yeah. Must be Mickey Rooney to want to be wit' an ol' pal o' me 'rents. Ain't that right?"

"Yes." With a growl, Sirius walked over to where the Potters were waiting. They all turned to walk into the bookstore. The ten-year-old looked back again and Draco shrugged his shoulders and gave him a wry smile. The boy looked shocked, then gave Draco a grin of his own before following his family.

Casper spoke. "What did you say? Who is Mickey Rooney?"

Draco stared. He smiled and cleared his throat. Then he did his fancy voice. "My apologies, Casper. I was merely telling your Cousin that he was late for his appointment, and I agreed with him that I must be insane to want to spend time with someone that my parents liked." He cast a glance and an expectant smile at Bellatrix Black.

"Then you were talking that gibberish as a lark?" Casper asked, in a rude tone.

Draco looked coldly at Casper. "I talk THIS way for amusement. I talk that 'gibberish' so that my friends will understand me. And only an overindulged prat would still refer to his mother as 'MUMMY' once he was old enough to wipe his own arse."

"STOP," Bellatrix Black said sternly. "Draco, you are old enough to know that Casper said what he did out of ignorance. And Casper, YOU are old enough to know that just because you don't understand something doesn't mean it's wrong or improper."

"Yes, Mummy," Casper said, then blushed furiously. "Yes, Mother."

"Draco?"

"Yeah, fine. Let's jus' start over." Draco held out his hand and gave his best fake smile. "Wotcha, Casper. I'm your honorary cousin, Draco."

Draco's grin was infectious. Casper returned the grin, cast a quick glance at his mother, then took Draco's hand. "Um, Wotcha, cousin."

"Now," Bellatrix said, leading the boys away from the bookstore and toward Florescue's Ice Cream Parlor, "Casper, why don't you control yourself for a while. After all, Draco must have a hundred questions of his own to ask."

Draco did. How long did she know his mother? She met her through his father. Why didn't anyone say anything? The Minister didn't approve. Where do they live? Outside London, and he could visit anytime. They would set him up on the floo network. Draco mentioned that he traveled that way today for the first time. They sat down at a table, gave their orders, and Bellatrix Black found herself explaining about how Wizards traveled. Casper Black, when given a chance, asked why Draco didn't know anything about this. He frowned when Draco said he was raised as a muggle.

Draco frowned when he asked about Cissy. The woman was Aunt Bella's sister, Narcissa. The elderly man was her husband. Narcissa always resented the fact that Lucius Malfoy cancelled their engagement. Aunt Bella noted that it was to be an arranged marriage, to keep the bloodlines pure. Her looked saddened as she added softly, "as my own marriage was."

"He dropped 'er for me mum?"

Bellatrix paused. Even Casper was waiting for the answer. Her answer came in an amused whisper. "He dropped her because he knew her too well to want to spend the rest of his life with her." A sad note in her voice. "It cost him his inheritance, you should know. That had nothing to do with your mother either."

"I heard me family was rich," Draco noted with indifference. "You went to school wit' me dad, then?"

"Cissy did. I was a few years ahead of him. I was already out of Hogwarts, and married, before your mother came to the school. But I think we should talk of other things. For instance, that girl is staring at us."

Draco set the spoon down by his nearly empty Sundae (vanilla ice cream with pineapple and nuts) and turned to see a fuming girl with bushy hair and large front teeth. She was hugging a set of books in front of her. Two adults, her parents, were standing behind her with amused looks on their faces. "Am I late, 'mione?"

* * *

"Dreadful," Missus Granger was saying to Bellatrix Black as they set around the table. "You couldn't even tell him you were related."

"Wouldn't have mattered," Hermione muttered. "He hadn't learned English yet."

"Yeah," Draco said with a touch of anger. "If your long lost godmother suddenly showed up, you would still have kept an appointment to meet me."

"I think that is unfair," Bellatrix Black said diplomatically.

"It's true though. She'd look you in the eye a' say, 'You'll need to make a reservation. I'm free in the morning on Thursday next'."

"I would not," Hermione said testily.

Missus Granger noted, "Hermione always goes to the library on Thursdays."

* * *

Draco left the Grangers and his Godmother and went with Hermione to get his books for the upcoming year. Casper, curious to ask more questions, asked to tag along. Draco not sure how to say no, let him.

"Whot was that crowd for earlier?" Draco asked, ignoring the human puppy that was following.

"Gilderoy Lockhart. He's a famous talk show host on the Wizarding Wireless. He came out with a new book, a biography. And he was autographing copies."

Draco glanced in the window at copies of a book called 'Marvelous Me'. On the cover was a strutting peacock of a man surrounded by all sorts of questionable people. "An' 'e's popular?"

"He even has a scandalous past. He spent three months in Azkaban. That's the wizarding prison. It seems he tried to claim credit for killing a troll by making the man who did it forget all about it. Luckily for that man, someone came by at the right time. Lockhart made a big scene of how he always wanted to be a hero but destiny seemed to pass him by at every turn. He ended up writing a book about that man, very exaggerated mind you, but housewives loved it. Now he spends his time interviewing these heroes and other crackpots and building them up to be bigger than life."

Casper interrupted. "Mummy, um, Mother calls him a charlatan, a mountebank, a fraud, a . . ."

"He is," Hermione admitted. "But many witches like him . . . and he is cute. He autographed my copy . . ."

Draco stared at his friend. "You bought 'is book?" They stepped into Flourish and Blotts and Draco's surprise turned to disgust. "I don't believe they're still 'ere."

Near the back of the bookstore stood Harry Potter. His mother was talking to the peacock. The peacock was smiling widely, gesturing wildly and acting humble all at the same time that he was carrying on the conversation.

Hermione tugged Draco's shoulder. "We can go this way." They turned right.

"Aunt Cissy says," Casper told them, "that the Potters are worse than Weasleys when it comes to honour."

"To 'onour whot?" Draco asked.

"The blood, of course," Casper answered with surprise. "Mu . . . Mother . . . says not to call them mudblood lovers but Auntie says it describes them perfectly."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. Her voice was emotionless as she turned her eyes on Casper. "Mudblood? As opposed to Pureblood?"

"Obviously." Casper did not catch Hermione's mood. "Draco's always the exception, of course. He is a Malfoy, and the Boy-Who-Lived. But those other types aren't worth associating with. Don't you agree?" He smiled. Then he understood Hermione's mood. His voice became weak and low. "At least that's what Auntie says."

"Better Mudblood than Pureblood," a boy's voice said from behind a pile of books. A black-haired head popped up. The Potter boy. "Mum says inbreeding always shows."

Casper looked at Hermione and Draco for support, then blushed with embarrassment when he understood they agreed with the other boy.

"He's Harry's brother," Hermione said.

"Seems like a decent sort," Draco noted. "Must be adopted."

Casper smirked at the Potter boy as he thought of a comeback. "Hope so. His family IS pureblood, Cousin."

"You're related," the Potter boy asked, then quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching.

"Honorary cousin. My mother is Draco's godmother."

"Then you're . . ." The Potter boy became nervous.

"Then He's What, William?" Hermione asked.

A sound of fear was in William Potter's voice. "Casper LeStrange." The boy looked as though he wanted to run off.

Odd sort, Draco noted. Definitely a Potter. "So, who's LeStrange?"

Hermione was looking at Casper in shock. "You know the Longbottoms?"

Draco snorted. "Never 'eard of 'em."

"This is serious, Draco. Shortly after your parents died, supporters of Voldemort attacked Neville's parents. Apparently they thought the Longbottoms would know what happened to their master. But there was a spy who revealed their plans. They walked right into a trap. Despite disguises, two were recognized and soon captured. They were the brothers LeStrange. Two others escaped and were never found. They suspected the wife of one of the brothers . . ."

"His mother," William interjected.

Hermione nodded. "Someone claimed they recognized her but she had an airtight alibi. She was with two members of the ministry, one of whom was the Minister's own son, telling them that she suspected her husband was up to something."

"I was told about father," Casper said with a sad tone. "It all happened before I was born." He gave a sharp look at Potter. "And for the record, my last name is Black."

"WILLIAM."

The Potter boy turned to the sound of the shout and went running. Draco guessed he was in trouble for talking to the enemy.

"Did I win?" Casper asked. "The argument. Did I get the better of him?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco shook his head. "Ya din't win nothin'. Ya just made a couple'a smart remarks."

"M-Mother says that I need to learn how to argue effectively. Have you ever been in many arguments?"

"A few," Draco admitted.

"How do you know if you've won?"

"Easy. I'm the one still standin'."

Hermione let out a huff. "Boys." She shook her head. "Shall we get your books?"

Casper followed carefully. This was not the Draco Malfoy he had dreamed about. This Draco Malfoy was coarser, rougher and definitely much more interesting.

Hermione led the way and Draco quickly picked up each book he would need. As luck would have it, the Potters were leaving as Draco stepped up to the counter to pay. Father and Son, James and Harry, gave him a snarl as they walked by. Draco decided to pay them back in his own style. He stuck out his hand and grabbed the arm of the next Potter to walk by.

"So, Billy Boy, ya comin' to 'ogwarts this year?" Draco's voice and smile said they were old friends.

"Uh, next year," the boy said hesitantly, not sure of what to do.

"Hey, same wit' Cas. Can't wait to see ya there." Draco let go of his arm and patted the younger boy's shoulder in a casual manner. Then he turned back to the counter to make his purchase. He looked over his shoulder toward the door, waving when one of the Potter's looked back, ignoring Hermione's request that he simply stop it. Then Casper was pulling on his sleeve. Draco looked over at the frightened boy, and up at Sirius Black. "Professor? Your mate's left."

"Really? And, Malfoy, did your godmother put you up to this?"

"Naw, Potter did," Draco said flippantly. "Jus' wanted a bit o' fun at 'is expense. Does 'Aunt Bella' 'ate the Potters, too?"

"You scheming runt," Black said angrily as he reached for Draco. Casper, who was standing between them, screamed and ducked behind Draco.

Everyone froze. Sirius Black was eyeing Casper with sadness. He dropped his hand to his side. "I was a fool for letting you provoke me, Malfoy."

Draco put his arm protectively around Casper's shoulder, but he was glaring at Sirius. "Yer fine wit' me, kid. Ya should know. I got me an uncle jus' like 'im."

He deftly grabbed his books from the counter and led the younger boy out of the shop. He didn't even think about what happened to Hermione. Because he was watching Casper, he didn't notice the lady until he bumped into her.

"Sorry."

"Polite? To a Potter?" It was the mother.

"Din't know who it was."

"You're forgiven then. But don't let it happen again."

Draco had to return her grin. He promised, and continued on his way. A glance back showed that she had been waiting for Sirius Black. They started talking at once and went to join the rest of the family. Draco returned to Florescue's when his Godmother was waiting with the Grangers.

"What happened?" Bellatrix asked when Casper rushed to her and hugged her.

"Cousin Sirius," Draco answered. "He don't get along wit' family. 'at's me own guess." He added with a smirk, "An' I get 'im for Defense again."

"No you don't," Hermione said from behind him. She gave him a smirk of her own. "I dared to comment on his behavior, and yours, and told him I regret that I have to deal with both of you this year. And he told me that I had nothing to regret as far as he was concerned."

"Naw. 'e was just tossin' you off."

"He also apologized for his behavior."

"Not surprised." There was a touch of anger in Draco's voice. "Always apologizes to everyone but me."

"Not only you," Bellatrix Black noted. "Sirius Black is not one to let go of a grudge if he can still throttle it, although he will smile if he thinks he has something to gain." She smiled. "He has a good heart, but I can't say the same about his head." She looked down at Casper. "Ready, Darling? I think it's time we were going."

"The book?" he asked, his fear and Sirius Black both gone.

"Ah, I suppose we have time for that." She paused to reach under her robes. "Draco, the books I took from my sister. Are you interested?"

Draco took the two used books and looked at them. "Introductory Spells? Still 'ave mine from last year."

"Still hasn't read it," Hermione quipped

"Tried to," Draco noted. "She kept reading it to me. Din't 'ave to read a single book last year." He had a thought. "Casper, 'ere ya go. Get a leg up on next year."

Casper smiled, then glanced at his mother. When she nodded, he turned back and took the book. He opened it and began to read before he finished saying thank you.

Draco looked at the second book. "Tom Riddle?" He flipped through the pages. "Ain't nothin' in this book. Who'd get a personal diary an' never use it?"

"Tom Riddle, apparently," Bellatrix pointed out. "You're welcome to it, if you think you'll use it."

"Already got one, thanks." Hermione and Bellatrix both looked amused. Draco became defensive. "Me frien' Janice gave it to me. I mostly write about things like . . . Hermione makin' the Quidditch team. Things like that."

Bellatrix nodded in understanding. "Keep it anyway. I'll only throw it away. Maybe you can find a use for it . . . or maybe a friend at school will want it."

Draco nodded and added it to his pile. He said his goodbyes and picked up his books. As he and Hermione went to make the rest of their purchases, Hermione leaned in and whispered her congratulations into his ear. Draco Malfoy had found a new relative.


	3. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

A/N: I need to respond to the review by Steve2 to clarify a gross misrepresentation of the background of Harry Potter's mother. I clearly stated in one of my author's notes in the previous book that Mrs. Potter was originally in Hufflepuff.

For everyone else who reviewed, thanks for the feedback. It does help to know that my grammar is getting better, although using the spell checker helps. I do apologize to Mandraco for introducing characters who won't be at Hogwarts but, if it is any consolation, they will both be showing up again at one point in the story. As a bit of suspense, I won't tell you when.

Chapter 3: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

It was on the morning of the following weekend that Draco found himself walking back to Grimmauld Place. As expected, the shaggy black dog was watching him as he turned the corner. On a whim, he walked past the home and approached the dog. As he sat down next to it, he would swear it looked surprised.

"Look, you able to talk to that owner of yours?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, he continued. "There's this wimp of a kid 'e's related to an' 'e don' give a damn about 'im. Don't like 'im meself either, mind you, but that's not the point. Kid's got no dad, an' all 'e's got is a bossy mum, least from what I can tell. Now, if your owner took the time . . ."

He looked at the dog which was just staring at him.

"Never mind. Stupid idea anyway. What kind o' roll model would Black be anyway. Casper'd jus' turn out to be another Potter."

The dog growled.

Draco snarled at the dog and stood up. He walked back to the home. He and Dudley were going to, as Miss Carmichael put it, spend quality time together. In Draco's mind, that was another stupid idea. But Janice said it was worth a try. Dudley might be a decent person. He went in and saw Miss Carmichael standing there.

"Good, you're on time for once. Dudley will be down shortly. Have you decided what to do?"

Draco shrugged. "Thought we'd visit the Queen, but she's out of town."

Miss Carmichael smiled. "Why don't you show him some of the finer points of the area."

"Ain't none. They moved 'em all to where the posh folks live. Truth is, don't know whot to do."

"Ask him?"

"Ask me what?" Dudley asked as he came down the stairs.

"Whot ya feel like doin'."

Dudley shrugged. "What is there?"

"Nuthin'."

Miss Carmichael shook her head. "Here's a suggestion. Draco, why don't you show him where you went, last weekend, to buy your school supplies."

Draco hesitated. Dudley noticed and said it was a wonderful idea. Draco's opinion of Dudley diminished ever so slightly.

* * *

Once outside, Draco led the way in the general direction of Charring Cross, with no idea of what to do once they arrived.

"We're not really going to look at school supplies?" Dudley asked once they had turned the corner.

Hiding his relief, Draco shrugged. "Don't know what else to do."

"We could go by my school. Someone might be there with a football we could kick around."

"Can't"

"Can't play football?"

"Can't go to your school. Used to be me old one. Got kicked out. Punched this kid. Busted 'is nose."

Dudley grinned. "We must be related. Same thing happened to me at my old school."

It was Draco's turn to grin. "I 'eard it was more than that."

Dudley spoke with mock pride. "I used my Smeltings stick. You only used your fists." His smile and his pride faded. "Don't think it mattered in the end. I know they were already talking about removing me. I was 'becoming an embarrassment'."

"Jus' as long as you ain't embarrassed." Draco decided to change the subject. "Can't ya get a placement? Least you'd 'ave a decent 'ouse to live in. Got to be better'n 'ere."

"It was good enough for you," Dudley pointed out. "And I do have a history of violence. No one would want me because of that."

"Yer tellin' it all wrong. Ain't violent. Ya got mad and beat up that bloke. No one ever asked what he said to get to ya. . What they're seein' now is a fine young gen'leman down on 'is luck, needin' only kindness and a 'elping 'and. Jus' lie though yer teeth an' ya can write yer own ticket."

It worked. Dudley's grim look faded. He even said it could be worth a try. He also pointed out that they still hadn't decided what to do. Draco suggested they go to a not-so-nearby market to get something to eat. When Dudley said he had no money, he was told it was not a problem. Dudley asked if Draco had money and was told no. Dudley hesitated, then said he wasn't hungry. After a pause, he added the word, yet.

With no idea of what to do, Draco asked if Dudley liked cars. When Dudley said yes, they ended up at the garage and volunteered to help Mick. Dudley learned how to clean a carburetor. It was something.

* * *

September the First. Janice was crying, but she said nothing was wrong. Mick told Draco that it was because he was leaving. Draco said it was silly. She didn't cry the last time he left. Mick shrugged his shoulders and told Draco that if he didn't figure it out in five years, he would explain it to him.

Janice managed to give him a hug before he could escape out the door. It was his own fault. The baby was still too young to care if he was there or not. He shouldn't have stopped by her crib. A quick dash and he would have been gone. Janice was becoming too motherly for him. She was a good friend but she didn't have to keep asking him if he remembered his toothbrush.

And he was out the door. Mixed feelings. He was leaving the closest thing he ever had to a home. He was going away to school again. Friends and adventure, and no more need to be careful of what he said to people.

Draco took a deep breath and set out for King's Cross Station. He would be there within the hour. He took three steps.

Coming up the street was an unexpected sight. Professor Black. And with him a young black-haired boy two years his junior.

"Cousin," the boy called out as he waved.

Draco groaned to himself and gave a weak wave in return. He politely waited as his defense teacher walked up. "You're me escort?"

"You were always a clever boy."

Another delay. Professor Black had to stop and talk to Mick and Janice. Casper was introduced as his nephew and that led to everyone going inside to see the baby. Twenty minutes after he had left, Draco was standing in the den/nursery waiting for everyone to finish being polite. His plans for arriving early seemed to fade quickly. Finally, Professor Black said his goodbyes and dragged Casper away. Casper had fallen in love with the place. He said later it was the first time he didn't have to worry if he broke anything.

"He means," Black explained when Draco scowled, "At home, and at his aunt's house, everything is kept clean and spotless. It's like living in a museum. Your friends have a home that looks like people really do live there."

"Don't explain the clothes."

Casper was dressed in a green tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. He had a blue and white striped shirt underneath and brown corduroy trousers. And shoes so well polished that they shined. The orange bow tie finished the ensemble.

"Isn't this the way muggles dress?" the boy asked.

"Only for Halloween. Casper, you ever 'ear the phrase, 'yer ugly and yer mother dresses you funny'?"

The boy shook his head while trying to decide if he was being insulted.

"Well, you ain't ugly."

Professor Black kept both boys moving. "Malfoy, you should know that we don't mix with muggles very often. Perhaps constructive criticism would be more helpful."

Draco looked at Casper. His first impression had been that the outfit made the boy look like a complete insert-word-here. But now that he thought about it, Draco understood that anyone who looked at Casper would have the correct impression. And now, thanks to the professor, Draco felt he had to do something about it.

"Hold on," he said as he swung his backpack off his shoulders. Holding it with one hand, he reached in with the other and pulled out an expensive pair of sunglasses, gold wire frame and mirror lenses. With practiced ease he swung his backpack into place again and handed Casper the sunglasses.

"If ya get rid of anythin'. You'd 'ave to get rid of all of it," Draco pointed out. "This'll 'elp."

As Casper put the sunglasses on, after first looking at his reflection, Sirius Black glared at Draco.

"Will that really help, Malfoy?"

"Can't hurt," Draco said with a shrug.

* * *

"You said you'd be early," Hermione admonished, then gave Draco a hug anyway.

"Needed to wait for me escort," Draco answered with a nod toward Sirius Black. "Still 'ave 'alf an hour, anyway."

"You're forgiven, then." Hermione looked past him. "Don't be too happy though."

Draco looked back. The Potter clan had just walked through to Platform 9 3/4, and James Potter was waving to Draco's escort. As they walked up, Harry Potter gave a quick glance at Draco and told his parents he was going on board to find Longbottom. Draco made a mental note to be thankful for small favours.

Sirius introduced Casper, who shook hands cheerfully with the Potters. He was now given the official label of a nice boy.

"I should be going," Draco said as he went to board the train.

"I'd like you to wait," Black told him. "Now that James is here there are things we need to discuss."

"Whot? That I'm a rotten kid? I know that, an' I promise to change me evil ways."

Black smiled, causing Draco to frown. "No need to discuss the obvious, or lie about it. This relates to certain events of the last school year. And no one is going to criticize you."

"If nothing else," James Potter added, "You've shown you have no loyalties to You-Know-Who. That has to be considered a positive point."

Draco nodded in agreement although he wasn't about to believe anything.

Potter continued. "In view of events at the end of the school year, I have been given a specific assignment. I need to ask you a few particulars about what happened."

"I need to board the train," Draco told him.

"There is time. And if I can't get my answers here, I will have to go with you to finish my interview. It's your choice."

Draco scowled. A look at Hermione showed she had a bemused look.

"Whot ya want to know?"

"Dumbledore related everything to me but I am curious about one thing. Did . . . You-Know-Who use any magic or was everything done by Professor Quirrell?"

Draco thought back to the events in front of the Mirror of Erised. "It was Quirrell who did everythin'. Volde . . ."

"Don't . . . say that name," Potter hissed. "It could bring bad luck."

"Voldemort," Draco said forcefully. "'e said 'e was forced to live off someone else, like a parasite."

Potter seemed relieved despite Draco saying the name. "Dumbledore also said that when Quirrell came in contact with you he felt pain. Did HE feel pain as well?"

"Don' know. I was 'urtin' as well. Din't pay attention."

"James." That was Claire Potter. She was looking back toward the entrance. "There seems to be some problem."

Potter looked. He called to someone he knew and walked over. His wife and friend followed. Out of curiosity, so did everyone else in the group. The man was a Ministry clerk. He said his wife went back to the station proper to find out what was keeping their daughter. She hadn't come back. The gate attendant said he would check and he hasn't come back. James looked at Claire as he pulled out his wand, and told her to wait. Sirius Black pulled his wand out as well and said he was ready. The two men exchanged grins. One went through the barrier, followed closely by the other.

"Best team in the Ministry," Claire Potter assured all the children. "If there's any problem, they'll fix it."

"Why did he go? Uncle Sirius?" Casper asked.

"He's back on duty as an Auror. It's his duty to investigate anything unusual."

"Uncle Sirius?" William asked. "Why did you call him Uncle?"

"He said it was easier than explaining that he's really my second cousin."

"Jus' bein' polite," Draco added helpfully. "Like the way I call Professor Snape, Uncle Severus, though we ain't related. 'e's an old friend o' me dad."

Missus Potter nodded but looked around nervously. A small crowd had grown larger, waiting for something to happen. She looked at the station clock. "It's getting late."

Hermione followed her look. "We only have a few minutes before the train leaves. We should get going."

"Hermione."

"Missus Potter?"

"I need to ask you a favour. I don't know what is happening on the other side of the barrier, although I'm assuming the best. On the other hand, I know we are safe here, for the present. I want you to take William and Casper with you. Just in case."

"Mum, I want to stay with you." William looked afraid.

"It's for the best, dear."

"But . . . now I have three people to worry about."

Claire Potter gave her son a mock serious look. "And if you don't listen to me, I'll make sure you have much more to worry about." She put her hand on his cheek. "Don't worry. This is probably for nothing, and I will worry less if I know you're safe." She glanced at Casper. "And I know other people would worry less if they knew you were on the train."

"I'd be happy to watch them," Hermione said. "If you think it's for the best."

"It's a judgement call. As I've said, I don't know what it's like on the other side of the barrier."

"Let's go then," Hermione said as cheerfully as she could.

As the four of them walked toward the train, Draco looked ahead at the other people. Missus Potter was not the only one to think of that idea. At least two other families were putting their younger children on the train as well.

"You Four," someone called out. "The Time. Board The Train. Quickly, Now."

Hermione nodded, hurrying everyone on board. "And you'd better behave."

With two boys repeatedly assuring Hermione that they would be on their best behavior, Draco led the way as they went to find Justin.

* * *

Justin waved as they walked into the car where he had saved a compartment. As they passed by, Draco looked into the compartment next door. Susan Bones waved. Ernie MacMillan looked up and grinned. Draco looked into the compartment on the other side. He saw Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. They were talking and didn't look up.

"Draco?" Justin asked as the four joined him in the compartment.

As Draco sat down next to Justin, he pointed to the black-haired boy who sat next to him, the one with the mirrored sunglasses and the orange bowtie. "This is Casper. Turns out that 'is mum is not only me godmother but Sirius Black's cousin."

"He has your taste in clothes, I see."

Casper beamed at the compliment. "Draco gave me the sunglasses."

The other black-haired boy, sitting next to Hermione, snorted. Draco pointed at him. "That's William. Turns out 'e's 'arry Potter's brother."

Justin nodded. "And why," he asked slowly, "are they with . . . you?"

"Ain't. They're wit' Hermione."

"Good. A logical explanation. Hermione?"

Hermione blushed. "Something's happening on the platform. Missus Potter asked me to watch them" She looked at William and Casper who were leaning forward and having a whispering argument. "Will the two of you stop?"

"Blood traitor," Casper hissed as he sat back and crossed his arms.

William adopted the same position, muttering back, "Death Eater."

"Death Eater?" Draco asked.

"Supporter of Voldemort," Hermione answered.

"It's going to be a wonderful trip," Justin commented.

"Thanks to him," William said.

"You started it," Casper responded.

"Are you a Death Eater?" Draco asked Casper.

"NO. He made that up."

"Fine. 'e's a liar."

"Am not," William insisted.

"Are to," Casper challenged.

"Stop it, both of you," Hermione demanded.

Draco was looking at Casper. "An' what's a blood traitor."

"He is."

Draco deftly stopped William from getting up by reaching over and pushing him back down. He then asked William, "What's a blood traitor?"

"Don't ask them," Hermione insisted. "A blood traitor is a pureblood who mingles with witches or wizards who have muggle backgrounds."

"Like me?"

"No," Casper insisted. "You're the exception."

Justin laughed. "So it's fine to associate with muggle-borns if you make an exception?"

Casper started to answer no, then yes, then paused with his mouth half open.

"It seems to me," Hermione smiled, "that you can't honestly call someone a blood traitor in front of your muggle-born friend. Draco is your friend, isn't he?"

"But Draco . . . " Casper started to say.

"Me mum was muggle born, an' yer mum was frien's wit' 'er, frien's enough to become me godmother." Draco held up his hands as though to say 'oh well'. "Yer hatin' someone for doin' the same thin' you're doin'."

"He called me a Death Eater," Casper said defensively.

"Well, 'e's a Potter. They do stuff like that all the time."

William hit the seat with his fist. "That's not fair. You're taking his side because he's related to you."

Hermione glared at William. "Draco just explained to Casper that there is nothing wrong with liking people regardless of their background. It seems to me he was taking your side."

"But . . . he called me Potter . . . like it was a bad word."

"Don't say it." Hermione was glaring at Draco. "William, Your brother made it a point to harass Draco during our first year. It was the reason he was kicked off the Quidditch team. Draco has strong reasons to dislike your brother." She kicked Draco's leg to make sure he was looking at her. "Draco should know better than to judge someone just because he's related to someone else he doesn't like."

"But 'e's Potter's brother."

"And Casper is Sirius Black's cousin. Did I make my point?"

"Yeah. Sorry, Billy Boy. I'll wait 'til you do somethin' before I hate you."

William looked doubtful, but Hermione put her hand on his shoulder, and told him, "That really is amazing. He said he was sorry. Draco never used that word before." She gave Draco a sly grin. "And he used it on a 'Potter'."

"Careful," Justin said. "Next thing, she'll have the two of you being friends."

Draco's eyes lit up. He didn't hate Harry Potter. He detested him. And the most perfect revenge just came to mind.

"I think she already did, make us frien's." He turned to William and held out his hand. "It'll mean you really are a blood traitor . . . jus' like Casper."

"You can't mean that?" Casper said in surprise. "About being his friend?"

That decided William who took Draco's hand in an exaggerated handshake. "Yes, he does."

"But . . ." Casper looked pleadingly at Draco. "Do I have to be his friend, then?"

The older boy grinned. "Noooo . . . but the two of you do have a lot in common."

Two ten-year-olds said, "What?"

"Yeah, Yer both purebloods. Yer both ten. And . . ."

Hermione stepped in. "Both of you are probably the first underage passengers on the Hogwarts Express in decades. That has to be worth something."

"We had to come," William pointed out.

"That doesn't make it any different. Isn't that right, Casper?"

Casper and William both looked at each other and grinned.

"Will they let us go up to the school?" Casper asked.

"That would be great," William replied. He turned to Casper and added, "Harry told me about the welcoming feast. There's loads of food and all you can eat."

"I'm getting hungry just thinking about that," Casper responded.

As the two continued talking, Draco glanced at Justin who nodded in agreement. Both gave Hermione a look that said she was brilliant. She smiled back to show that she already knew.

A knock at the door. Two identical faces looked in. Both glanced at William.

"You're Harry's brother."

"Yeah."

"And you're with Draco?"

"Uh, yeah."

Fred and George looked at Draco who smiled.

"Uncle Sirius left them in my care. There was trouble on the platform."

"We know. Word's going though the train," George explained.

"And we're helping the news along," Fred added. "We already know a few people who didn't make it on the train. Angelina, Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff, Your friend Nott and his brother."

"About a half dozen others."

William suddenly looked worried. "My dad went to . . ."

The twins looked at each other and nodded. They turned back to William. "Not to worry. He's fine," George told him.

"How do you know?"

Fred grinned. "Oliver Wood. He's our team captain. He went and asked the conductor."

"Good thinkin'," Draco chimed in. "'e'd know if there were any serious problems."

Justin couldn't help himself, "or any problems with Sirius."

Four people groaned, but the two youngest laughed.

"Hermione," George said, "Oliver wants a team meeting, if you're up to it."

Draco was surprised at Hermione's look. She was surprised at the comment, as though she didn't expect to still be on the team.

"I . . . I'm still Seeker."

"Unless you're worse than last year," Fred noted. "You're the reason we won the Quidditch Cup."

Hermione still seemed nervous about the idea, a fact that was not help by two now worshipful faces looking up at her. "I haven't flown all summer. I don't know . . ."

"And you won them the House Cup too?" William asked. "Harry said Gryffindor won."

Fred pointed to Draco. "We were twelve points down to Slytherin, and he came up with twenty house points."

William was now staring at Draco with something close to respect. "What did you do?"

"Stole 'em," Draco replied. "It's me specialty."

"How?"

"He won't tell," Justin answered. "He says it a professional secret."

Casper's voice was filled with awe. "You stole housepoints?"

Fred spoke up. "Hermione? Are you coming?"

"YES."

Hermione said a quick goodbye and followed the twins to the next car. She came back a moment later. "Justin, you're in charge."

"Why not Draco?" Casper asked.

"Sirius Black would kill me if I put him in charge of you." She was gone again.

"Uncle Sirius doesn't like me," Draco said informatively.

"I didn't know that," Justin responded.


	4. Arrival

A/N: I'm in one of those moods this morning. I feel I should write something but I can't think of anything. Therefore, I've decided to post the World's Easiest Test (TM). It's so easy, you only need four (4) correct answers to pass. The answers are at the end of the chapter. Good luck.

1) How long did the Hundred Years War last?

2) Which country makes Panama hats?

3) From which animal do we get catgut?

4) In which month do Russians celebrate the October Revolution?

5) What is a camel's hair brush made of?

6) The Canary Islands in the Pacific are named after what animal?

7) What was King George VI's first name?

8) What color is a purple finch?

9) Where are Chinese gooseberries from?

**Chapter 4: Arrival**

Sirius Black was there at the train station when the Hogwarts Express arrived. James Potter was with him. Neither was smiling when they spotted Draco. They walked over to where the motley crew stood waiting. Casper was moaning while he leaned heavily on Draco's arm. Justin held a steady hand on William's shoulder. The boy was pale but otherwise he looked fine. The two adults stopped directly in front of Draco. Potter reached out for William.

"What happened to you?"

"'e's fine," Draco offered. "'e threw up 'bout 'alf an hour ago." Casper moaned. "This'un sounds like 'e's ready to let go any minute."

"It wasn't our fault," Justin volunteered. "Well, it was, but we were trying to be nice."

"Nice?" Potter's tone of voice stated clearly that he wasn't going to believe a word of it.

"Yeah. Draco had some money left over and the kids wanted to look for William's brother, you know, Harry."

"Yes. I do know Harry."

"Um, yeah . . ."

"It's me own fault," Draco admitted. "I din't know 'ow much candy a Galleon could by."

The man's eyes widened. "You gave them money for candy?"

"Tryin' to be nice, you know. 'ad some left after shopin'."

James Potter walked William away. He paused and turned back. "You did the right thing to take him with you. I'll grant you that." He paused. "And that's all I'll grant you." He continued walking away, saying something about Madame Pomfrey.

Sirius Black was still standing there.

"Where is Miss Granger?"

"Wood wanted an early start," Draco explained, "but 's a'right. She put Justin in charge."

"That obviously helped. And how much did Casper eat?"

Casper moaned. He turned back toward the train and fell to his knees. Everyone looked away and tried to ignore him while he emptied his stomach.

"That much," Justin exclaimed.

Sirius Black began laughing. Both of the students stood speechless. As Casper calmed down, so did Black. He helped the now ashen boy to his feet, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, and led him away.

"You're not yellin' at us."

That led Sirius to start laughing again. "Bellatrix will take care of that."

"Professor," Justin called out as they ran to catch up. "What happened? At the station. We were worried."

"Really? It was nothing dangerous. Someone cast a spell to block anyone from getting to the platform. We could leave but we couldn't get back. The spell vanished the instant the train left the station. We never had enough time to cancel it. Or examine it. And I'm not a Professor anymore."

"You don't know who cast it?"

"No. But we do know when it was cast, Justin. At least, we know the last person to make it through the barrier." He looked pointedly at Draco.

"Me? They're blamin' me for it? It 'appened after the Potters came through."

They reached the coaches. Sirius Black found an empty one and put Casper in. He motioned for Draco and Justin to get in as well, closing the door as he sat down.

"Malfoy, I'm telling you and Finch-Fletchley about this, not because you did it. Because I think it was done for you. James and Claire both agreed with me that it was the most likely explanation. We're guessing that someone was following you with the intent to do you harm. Someone, who wishes to remain anonymous, was trying to protect you."

"You won't tell me?"

"I can't tell you. I don't know. And I don't know anyone who does."

"The face?" Casper asked weakly.

Sirius furrowed his brow. "What face?"

"Draco saw one. On the train."

Black's eyes peered directly at Draco. "You saw a face?"

The blond boy shrugged. "Maybe. Don't know. Thought I did. Jus' for a second. It disappeared right when I saw it."

"Was the man in the corridor?"

"Weren't no man. Looked more like some ugly kid. And it were outside the window." He shrugged again. "Imagined it, probably."

No one said anything for most of the trip. Black was clearly thinking things over. Draco had the feeling the man was enjoying himself. As they neared the castle, Black broke the silence.

"I'm taking Casper to see Madam Pomfrey. Draco, I don't want you or Justin to say anything about the face, or about why we think the barrier was blocked. I'll talk to Dumbledore, though. He'll need to know." He nudged Casper. "Let's keep this a secret, too?"

Casper gave a wane smile and nodded.

When the coach stopped, Black climbed out and grabbed Casper. "One small thing to consider, Draco. Last year, you made it a point to talk in, you called it your fancy voice? You might want to do that again this year."

"Why?"

Black smiled. "When you talk in your normal voice, everyone expects you to do something. When you use your fancy voice, they don't know what to expect. It gives you an edge. You might need one."

As Black lifted Casper out of the coach, Draco asked, "Why you bein' nice to me, all of a sudden?"

"I owe you one." He stood Casper on the ground, then walked him to the Castle and went inside.

Draco and Justin were left by themselves. Draco was lost in thought. He was remembering last year, when he was pushed over the stairs at the Quidditch match. Everyone was amazed that he survived. Maybe the magic helper couldn't stop the fall. And he didn't want to reveal himself. He made it so that Draco survived.

"Coming?"

Draco looked at Justin, standing on the ground holding the door open.

"Might as well." He cleared his throat. "I suppose I will have to set an example of good conduct this year."

Justin laughed at Draco's Eton accent. "You definitely should. It will confuse everyone. Especially Hermione."

* * *

I'm back. Those were the first words to pass through Draco's mind as he entered the Great Hall. He self-consciously brushed the hair on his forehead. It was now long enough to cover his scar and that was what he was making sure it did. Justin said his farewell and went to join the Hufflepuffs. Draco looked toward the Gryffindor table and saw Hermione wave to him. He walked over and sat next to her. Across the table from them sat the Weasley twins.

"Enjoy your holiday?"

The twins grinned at him.

"A wonderful time," George told him.

"Despite certain events at someone's birthday party," Fred added.

"For which Hermione has forgiven us," George noted.

"As long as we promised never to do it again," Fred amended.

"A promise we intend to keep . . ."

"At least for the rest of the school year . . ."

"No hoses at Hogwarts." Fred and George tried to look sad.

"I could ask Mick to send me one," Draco offered.

"Wha', no bloody a'cent?" Fred asked.

Draco tried to frown. "I thought I was speaking with an accent."

Hermione nudged his arm and gave him an inquisitive look. Draco shrugged his shoulders. He told her and the twins what Sirius Black had said. Once he mentioned that Black was there, Hermione had him tell everything she knew about what happened at the Station.

"Where's the old Professor now?" Fred asked cheerfully.

"The infirmary, I guess."

"What did you do?" Hermione had an expectant look that matched the two Weasleys.

"Yes. What did you do?" That was an angry voice directly behind Draco. One that belonged to a certain Harry Potter. "My brother is here, and he's in the infirmary."

Draco looked up and back at Potter. Longbottom was standing there as well. In as haughty a voice he could manage, Draco told him.

"It seems that William Potter and his best friend, Casper Black, finessed their way on board the Hogwarts Express, stole a significant sum of money, then spent it all on candy."

Draco smiled as Potter became furious. Hermione was groaning. Longbottom was grabbing Harry's arm and trying to tell him that a certain blond haired boy was lying through his teeth. Potter took a few deep breaths to calm down. In a low voice he demanded to know the truth. Draco's smile grew as he saw who was walking up. He ignored Potter and gave out a cheerful call.

"Uncle Severus!"

"Draco, welcome back." The cheerful voice and the smile were replaced with a scowl as the Potions Professor turned to the two Gryffindors who were standing. "Mister Potter, you will be happy to know that your brother is fine."

"Do you know what happened, Sir?" Potter dared to ask.

Professor Snape arched an eyebrow. "Your father didn't tell you? It seems your brother and his friend spent a rather large sum of money on candies and pastries, then ate every last piece. Madam Pomfrey gave them something to settle their stomachs."

"Friend?" Potter asked. Draco smirked at the doubt that was in the other boy's voice.

Snape glanced at Draco. "Perhaps, Potter, you should find out by going to the infirmary yourself."

"Yes, Sir."

Draco waited until Potter and Longbottom had walked away. As soon as the path was clear, he stood up only to be grabbed into a hug.

"Did you enjoy your birthday, Draco?"

"You know about that?"

"All about it." Snape leaned down to whisper in Draco's ear. "I mentioned to someone, one of those bothersome muggles in the government, that you were born overseas. It seems that was enough." He stood up. "Did you like my birthday present?"

"It was great."

They hugged again. Professor Snape excused himself, giving Hermione the curtest of nods and ignoring the Weasley Twins completely. Draco sat down as Snape headed toward the teacher's table.

"What did he give you?" Hermione asked.

"My birthday."

Hermione was thrilled to learn that it was dour Professor Snape (dour to everyone except Draco) who slipped the information to the muggle authorities. It seemed almost funny to like someone who scowled whenever he looked at you.

A hush came over the hall as the first years were led in. All of them looked around in amazement, reminding Draco that everyone else in his class did the same thing last year and that circumstances prevented him from joining in. As a result it was with forced humour that he watched the new group make their way to where the sorting hat sat perched.

The hat then began to sing. To Draco's surprise it sang a different song than last year. Hermione told him later, she had asked about it, that the hat sings a different song every year.

Stand and listen to my tale.

In times gone by it does begin.

Might Wizards came together

On this very spot we're standing in.

Noble Gryffindor did join with

None other than Salazar Slytherin.

Our heirs were joined by Hufflepuff,

Then Ravenclaw did make it four.

The founders sent out their call,

Inspiring other to come and find

Spells and potions, Runes and Lore,

Taught to all of ready mind.

Ravenclaw, of sharpened wit,

Yearned to hone each young mind.

In her house, learning is love;

No wasted thoughts are here to find.

Gryffindor chose those who were brave

To study under him hard and long

Of how to use their polished skills

Keeping others safe with magic strong.

In Hufflepuff's house a slower pace,

Love of work makes it seem like play.

Labour is never a task for them,

Doing their best in every way,

Ready to lead, to be in control.

Ambition lives in Slytherin's halls.

Comrades only in their drive for power.

Over time they help each others goals.

Many have come to hear me sing,

And each have tried me on for size.

Let me read your thoughts, that I can do.

Find out what is the very thing

Of which you are best. I'll tell no lies.

You will find the house that is right for you.

Then the sorting began. Each house cheered upon gaining a new member. The third in line, a small boy named Colin Creevey came to their house. Draco liked him at once, simply because it meant that he was no longer the shortest person in Gryffindor. One girl caught Draco's eye. She reminded him of Casper except, while he tried to dress like a muggle without knowing how, she seemed to be trying to dress like a witch. She had scraggly dirty blond hair which hung to her waist. Her most striking feature was her eyes, grey and glassy. At one point she turned to look around her. As her eyes roved, they stopped when she spotted him, and gave Draco a whimsical smile. Then her name was called.

"Lovegood, Luna."

Draco watched as the hat was placed on her head. After a long pause, it called out, "Ravenclaw." He couldn't explain it, but seeing her go to a different house gave him a sense of relief.

The sorting continued. It was almost over when the name, Ginevra Weasley, was called out. Hermione nudged him and nodded toward the twins. Both had their fingers crossed. Moments later, they were all standing and applauding as the hat called out, "Gryffindor".

As Ginny sat down, Albus Dumbledore stood.

"Another sorting completed and another school year begun. I can only hope that most of you learn as much this year as you've forgotten over the summer holiday. But let me first put everyone at ease over an incident at King's Cross Station this morning. To everyone's embarrassment, there was a failure in the barrier that keeps muggles from entering Platform Nine 3/4. While anyone could still leave the platform freely, the barrier kept everyone and anyone from entering. The handful of students who missed the Hogwarts Express as a result of this did arrive safely by means of a timely but less exciting route. I know that several rumours of dreadful things have been circulating but, as all of you should have realized by now, none of them are true.

"Before we begin eating, I also have a few announcements. Our caretaker, Argus Filch, asked me to remind all students that loitering in the halls is not permitted during or between classes. All students second year and above should note that Quidditch tryouts for each house will take place on the second weekend from today. Please consult with your Heads of House for the specific times. Also, I would like everyone to give a warm welcome to our new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Peter Pettigrew."

A short balding man, slightly on the plump side, stood up as the students politely applauded. He gave everyone a shy smile and quickly sat back down. Draco groaned. He recognized the man from the picture on Sirius Black's mantlepiece. The one with the four adult friends.

"He'll be great," a familiar voice said. Draco looked over and saw that Potter was back from the infirmary.

Dumbledore smiled as the hall became quiet. "I should note that we do have some unexpected guests at the feast. I will note that two of them needed to go to the infirmary upon their arrival . . ." Justin's snort of laughter could be heard in the relative silence of the Great Hall, but Dumbledore's glance was clearly aimed at Draco. ". . . but that was because they helped themselves too freely to the candy trolley on board the Hogwarts Express. They will be sad they could not be here but that cannot be helped. And finally," Dumbledore continued, an amused smile on his face, "I need to inform all students and guests that the announcements are done." He raised his hands and said, "Let the feast begin."

With much less trepidation than last year, Draco quickly filled his plate with anything within reach. Hermione, doing the same but with more grace, asked her question.

"How did William Potter become best mates with Casper Black?"

Fred smiled. "That's a question I would love the answer to."

"Easy," Draco said as he bit into a chicken leg. He swallowed before he explained, "I convinced them that they think the same."

Hermione frowned, "A Death Eater and a Blood Traitor think the same?"

"This has to be a good story," George told his brother.

"Yeah, Casper says he only likes purebloods, except for me. Associating with anyone who isn't a pureblood means you're a blood traitor. And Potter claims to like muggles but he doesn't know any so that makes him a lying Death Eater."

"I know that part," Hermione pointed out.

"They don't," Draco said with a nod toward the twins. "Anyway, I talked them into looking around the train. I told William he could introduce Casper to his brother."

Hermione looked doubtful. "And they went along with it?"

"Yeah. I had some money left so I gave them a Galleon and told them about the trolley lady."

"Wait. You weren't on the train long enough last year. How do you know about the trolley lady?"

"Ron Weasley. He complained last year that she had all this candy and he didn't even have enough money for a chocolate frog. And I made the mistake of asking him if it was a real frog."

Fred grinned. "That tells us what you and Ron talked about for the next hour. Did you really give them a whole Galleon?"

"Yeah, had some money left after shopping. Honest, I din't . . . didn't expect them to spend all of it." If I have to explain that one more time, Draco thought, I'm going to scream.

* * *

Draco was halfway through breakfast when the owls came in. They did this every morning to deliver the mail, but Draco rarely received any. He was surprised when an owl flew up to him and delivered a letter. It was in a red envelope. As he picked up the envelope, he heard someone say, "Howler."

Draco looked up. It was Ron Weasley. Sitting just past him were Potter and Longbottom. Both were smiling.

"Hermione?"

Hermione gave him an encouraging smile and put her hands over her ears. Draco wasn't sure what was going to happen but he knew it wouldn't be good. With trepidation, he opened the letter.

"DRACO MALFOY," a booming voice said as it echoed through the hall. It seemed a hundred times louder than humanly possible. And Draco recognized the voice. It was his godmother. "HOW IS IT POSSIBLE FOR ONE BOY TO CAUSE SO MUCH TROUBLE? YOU HAD TO HAVE TAKEN LESSONS FROM SOMEONE. (Fred pointed at George, who shook his head.) MY SON, LEFT IN YOUR CARE, ENDED UP IN THE INFIRMARY. AND IF THAT WASN'T ENOUGH, ANOTHER BOY IN YOUR CARE ENDED UP THERE AS WELL. I CAN ONLY BE GRATEFUL THAT YOU'RE ONLY STARTING YOUR SECOND YEAR OR ELSE YOU MIGHT HAVE KILLED THEM BOTH. YOU INCOMPETENT DERANGED EXCUSE FOR A WIZARD. THE FOULEST DARK WIZARD IN THE WORLD HAS MORE COMPASSION AND UNDERSTANDING THAN YOU DO. YOU MAKE ME ASHAMED . . . ASHAMED . . . TO BE RELATED TO YOU. AND WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN IN PERSON I WILL HAVE A TALK WITH YOU ABOUT THE LIES YOU HAVE BEEN TELLING CASPER."

The letter concluded with a loud scream of disgust.

"Lies," Hermione asked as the echoes faded away.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "It's your fault, anyway. You ran off to talk with your Quidditch friends."

"I left Justin in charge. That would make it his fault. But you were the one who did all the talking and gave them the money."

"I don't believe it," Longbottom said loudly. "He has Bellatrix Lestrange calling him evil."

"She is the expert," Potter added.

"Who's Bellatrix Lestrange?" a voice asked from Draco's right. Draco looked over and down. It was the short boy, Colin something-or-other. The boy was smiling but he seemed nervous.

"Me godmother," Draco told him. "No one wants to tell me what, but her husband did something bad and I guess he's in jail or ran away. And her last name is now Black. It was her name before she married."

"Um, Draco." It was Hermione, pointing at an owl. The owl dropped a red letter in front of Draco.

"I'm going to guess this is from the Potters," Draco said as he picked up the letter. He opened it and another voice, male, belonging to someone named Potter, began booming though the hall.

"DRACO MALFOY, YOU HAVE TO BE THE MOST INCONSIDERATE, SELFISH, EGOTISTICAL BOY THAT I HAVE EVER MET. IT WAS BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU TRICKED MY SON INTO EATING HIMSELF SICK. BUT YOU HAD TO TOP THAT BY FILLING HIS HEAD WITH HOLLOW, MEAN SPIRITED SLANDERS ABOUT HIS BROTHER. I HAVE ALREADY TAKEN THIS MATTER UP WITH THE HEADMASTER AND I KNOW THAT WHATEVER PUNISHMENT HE GIVES YOU WILL NOT BE SUFFICIENT REGARDLESS OF WHAT IT IS. AND WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN I WILL HAVE A TALK WITH YOU ABOUT THE LIES YOU HAVE BEEN TELLING WILLIAM."

"I am impressed," George said in the ensuing silence. "Two Howlers in one day has to be a record."

"We did have one for the two of us," Fred pointed out, "but that isn't quite the same."

"Here's more fun," Potter was heard to say.

"Mister Malfoy." It was Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Professor?"

"You are excused from your first class today so that you can go to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey wants to discuss certain matters with you at your earliest convenience."

"Yes, Professor."

"And Mister Malfoy. You will be given detention as a result of your antics on the train. Despite your good intentions, you clearly showed poor judgement. Both of you will be informed later as to where and when you will serve your punishments."

"Both of us?" Hermione asked with mixed surprise and fear.

"Not you, Miss Granger. I was referring to Justin Finch-Fletchley, who was with Draco the entire time yet never used his authority to keep matters under control. I am given to understand that he was left in charge."

As Professor McGonagall walked away, Draco could hear Potter and Longbottom laughing. Others were talking and he was obviously the subject under discussion. His appetite gone, he decided to keep his appointment. Madam Pomfrey, after all, was his legal guardian.

"Hermione? I'm not allowed to go anywhere by myself."

"Ask Justin. I'm sure he'd be happy to miss his first class of the year." She smiled at his frown. "I haven't finished eating. You'll have to wait."

"Excuse me?" It was the small boy on his right, Colin. "Why can't you go anywhere by yourself?"

"Someone is trying to kill me."

"Why?"

Draco frowned. "Do you know who I am?"

"You mean about being the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Yeah."

"They said you were evil."

Draco frowned again. "Then why are you sitting next to me."

"I wasn't. You sat next to me."

"Oh. Right." Then Draco had an inspiration. Colin was a first year. First years had their mornings free on the first day of classes. "How would you like to go to the infirmary?"

Fear came across Colin's face as he suddenly stood up. "I'll move. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything."

Draco hastily grabbed Colin's arm and tried to calm him. It took a couple of minutes, with Fred, George and Hermione laughing at his efforts, to get the boy to understand that he only wanted an escort. Because he couldn't walk around the school by himself. Colin agreed only because Draco assured him that if he were really evil he would have ordered Colin to go with him.

* * *

"Morning, Mum," Draco said as he entered the infirmary.

"The prodigal son returns. And why is that boy behind you shaking like a leaf?"

"I told him about someone trying to kill me, and the times he tried already. He thinks that whoever it is might decide it's better to kill both of us than to risk any witnesses."

"Be thankful your mysterious adversary hasn't thought of that. I'll be with you in a moment." She smiled at Draco then walked out of the infirmary.

Draco smiled. There was no reason for it. He was happy to be back, to see Madam Pomfrey again. He turned when a third voice called his name. It was William. He was lying in Draco's usual bed.

"What happened? You're still here?"

"Madam Pomfrey's orders. We had to spend the night. Uncle Sirius is picking us up in an hour."

"Casper's still here?"

"He's taking a bath. I'm next." William tried to smile but it didn't seem to work. "Draco. I wanted to say thanks."

"For getting you sick?"

"For being nice to me. Like we were really friends."

Draco was surprised. As was Colin, who asked how William became sick. This led to introductions and a repetition of the events on the platform and on the train. Then William explained his comment. Harry, being the older brother, was always the special one. He always came first. William knew he was loved but he resented always being placed second. His father would talk with him and do things with him. So would his mother. But Harry was always their first concern. But Draco and Justin treated him as though he was just as good as, maybe better than, Harry. And they made him talk to Casper. And made them become friends. Despite what their parents might say.

"We can talk about anything, Draco. He'll never tell on me, and I won't tell on him. We've even decided to be in the same house next year."

"Slytherin or Gryffindor?" Draco asked.

William grinned. "No. And once we're sorted our parents can't do anything. We're thinking about Hufflepuff. Justin will be there to help us, and my dad won't be able to blame you."

"I know your dad. He'll blame me anyway."

"It's true," Colin said. "He's going to talk to him about the lies he told you."

William palled. "I didn't mean to . . ."

"It's all for a Tin Bath," Draco assured him. "Casper's mum is going to yell at me for the same thing."

"Lies?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she returned with a neatly dressed Casper in jeans and a jumper.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure. I think it's because I told them they could be friends. Casper, those new clothes suit you."

Casper smiled as he put on his sunglasses. "Madam Pomfrey knows how muggles really dress."

Pomfrey smiled at the compliment. "William. It's your turn."

William jumped out of bed and followed her out.

Draco gave Casper an approving grin. "Billy tells me the two of you are thinking about Hufflepuff."

Casper's smile wavered but held. "I'm worried Mother will decide to send me to Durmstrang instead. It's supposed to be a better school, as far as who they let in."

"Better?" Colin asked. "Like in purebloods?"

"Yeah," Draco answered. "It's like the whole school is in Slytherin."

Casper nodded. Then he smiled and reached into his pocket. "I bought loads of Chocolate Frogs on the train. And look. I have Circe, and I finally found one of Merlin. All I need now are Ptolemy and Agrippa and I have the complete set."

Draco had to laugh. He knew someone else who saved Chocolate Frog cards. And those were the only two he was missing.

Madam Pomfrey returned again. She motioned Draco to follow her into her office. They had some talking to do.

* * *

"Did your friends take good care of you?"

Draco nodded. "Thanks for setting that up. It was a great summer."

"And what did you think of Dudley?"

"You know about him."

Madam Pomfrey told him yes. And she explained about his summer. The Minister had originally planned for Draco to be supervised by one of the Aurors. When he told her of the plan, she said it was probably better than what she was thinking of: having Draco stay with a muggle family. The Minister loved the idea. He even insisted that the family be in the general area of Grimauld Place. As far as Dudley, that was also Madam Pomfrey's idea. It was a practical means of determining how much the boy knew about the wizarding world.

"You know what's been going on?"

"Mostly because of Sirius Black. He was supposed to watch you and the Dursleys. When you left, he made it a point to keep track of them anyway. Just in case. It seems that he and the Minister knew what happened to you after you ran away."

"Yeah. It turns out he lives next to the Home I was sent to."

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "That was an odd coincidence."

"I'd call it a lucky break. For him. Most kids who go there are shipped out to a foster home within the week. I had too many problems when I arrived."

Madam Pomfrey reached over and wiped away an unwanted tear from Draco's cheek. "The memories still hurt. Then I will give you some happy news. You do know that Professor Snape interfered with the muggles, so that they would be able to find all your records?"

"He told me yesterday."

A sigh. "And I wanted to be the one to tell you." She lifted his chin with her finger. "Perhaps I should explain why I called you here? It concerns two unlikely friends that you made."

"Billy and Cas?"

"Exactly. Such a friendship, if it endures, is going to cause a great many problems. Bellatrix Black puts on a beautiful front, but her views are well known. That she was also a suspect when her husband was arrested was no surprise to anyone. Do you understand what I am referring to? Good. Because James Potter is one of the few people who insisted she was lying about where she was. He only backed off when he found out whom she was with."

"Hermione told me," Draco admitted. "She was telling a couple of men in the ministry that she thought her husband was up to something. Hermione said that one of them was the Minister's son."

"A bright girl," Madam Pomfrey admitted. "But did she tell you who the other man was? No? It was your new Defense Professor. Potter was forced to accept Bellatrix Black's statement or call one of his best friends a liar. As it is, he thinks it very appropriate that she is your godmother."

Draco understood. William Potter and Casper Black claiming to be best mates would be the equivalent of Harry saying that Draco was all right in his book. And one blond-haired Gryffindor would be blamed.

* * *

A/N: Here are the answers. I'm sure you did great.

1) How long did the Hundred Years War last?

116 years

2) Which country makes Panama hats?

Ecuador

3) From which animal do we get cat gut?

Sheep and Horses

4) In which month do Russians celebrate the October Revolution?

November

5) What is a camel's hair brush made of?

Squirrel fur

6) The Canary Islands in the Pacific are named after what animal?

Dogs

7) What was King George VI's first name?

Albert

8) What color is a purple finch?

Crimson

9) Where are Chinese gooseberries from?

New Zealand


	5. Classes Begin

A/N: I wanted to let everyone know that I have gone back and corrected all of the spelling errors I could find. That includes the one that was pointed out by Artemis-Chan, which took me forever to find.

**Chapter Five: Classes Begin**

Draco was smiling as he had Colin escort him to his Defense class. The mousy-haired boy was extremely nervous yet continued to hold on to his perpetual smile. There was a loud thump behind them. Colin screamed and ran off down the hallway. Moments later, Peeves the Poltergeist appeared, glanced at Draco, then decided the first year would be much more fun. He took off after Colin.

"Poor Colin," Draco said half-heartedly. He shrugged his shoulders and continued walking to the classroom. He turned the corner. And stopped.

It was as though Kreacher had taken a youth potion and shaved. Whatever the creature was in front of him it was clearly the same type as Sirius Black's servant. That it had the same face he had seen outside the window of the train was no surprise. And it was holding a finger in front of its lips to tell Draco to be quiet. When Draco nodded, it lowered its hand and spoke in a whisper.

"Draco Malfoy must not be alone."

"You know me?" Draco asked, also in a whisper.

It nodded. "Dobby knows all about Draco Malfoy."

"An' ya still wan' to 'elp. I mean, and you still what to help me?"

Dobby smiled and nodded hid head vigorously. "But Draco Malfoy must promise not to tell. No one is supposed to know Dobby is helping him."

Dobby waited, until Draco realized why he was waiting.

"Right. I promise. It's better if no one knows, anyway."

Dobby gave him a wide grin then motioned for Draco to follow quietly. They came to a corner near the defense class, and Dobby had Draco lean against the wall. He signaled for Draco to be quiet, then vanished into thin air. Draco's surprise notwithstanding, it was only a few seconds before he understood why. Two men were somewhere down the next hallway, and they were talking. As long as no other sound was made, Draco could hear them. One was Sirius Black. The other was referred to as Peter. A good guess was that it was the new defense teacher. And he was laughing.

"Right there on the platform? That must have been funny. It explains the two Howlers Malfoy received this morning."

"Two? You mean SHE . . ."

A pause. Pettigrew asked, "What is it?"

"That cunning shrew. She's playing the same game I am. I'm willing to wager anything that little Casper will tell her everything once he gets home."

Pettigrew laughed. "Sirius, did you expect anything else? Bellatrix likes to control everything she touches. It's the way she is."

Draco had to smile. That explained Casper perfectly.

"Too true," Black admitted.

"If I may ask, Sirius. What are you doing about Draco Malfoy? I have heard things."

Black laughed. "That's the beautiful part. Now that he's thwarted You-Know-Who a second time, we're all fairly sure he's not in league with him. Not that it means he's a golden boy. I told that gullible fool that the incident at the station was probably related to him. And I know he believed me."

Draco almost laughed. If he was right about Dobby, then what Black had told him really was the truth. That didn't stop him from feeling angry, though, about Black's attempt to use him.

"But it happened after Harry passed through the barrier?"

"And Neville was already on the train. But there was no danger there. The barrier had to be a protective measure. And if Malfoy believes he was the reason, that could make him malleable to our plans. "

"But the barrier. Who?"

Another pause. Then Black spoke in a softer voice. The only words Draco could pick out were "Dumbledore" and "amused". Then Black's voice returned to normal as he pointed out that it was almost time for Pettigrew's class and that he needed to pick up his two charges.

Draco's anger at Black's lie fled as he remembered about Casper. As quick as he dared, he rushed back to the infirmary. As he entered, he saw Madam Pomfrey giving both boys a final inspection.

"Sirius Black is coming," Draco said anxiously. "I need to talk to Casper. In private."

Madam Pomfrey looked him in the eye. "No."

"Bloody Hell. Fine. Casper, when ya get home, yer gonna blab to yer Mum. Right?"

Casper answered, "Huh?"

Fancy voice, Draco told himself with a curse. "When you get home you're going to tell your mother everything that happened. Right."

Casper instantly became nervous. "Uh . . ."

"Look, when she asks about being friends with Billy Boy, tell her you thought it would be a good idea."

"A good idea?"

"Yeah. So you can spy on the Potters. In case they're planning something."

"But . . . she won't believe me. She knows I'm not that clever."

"Casper," Madam Pomfrey suggested, "tell her that it was Draco's idea." She turned to Draco. "It was clever of you to notice that not everyone is altruistic." She smiled at Draco's frown. "Not everyone is all goodness and light."

"And I'm clever, too," William said. "I'm telling my Dad I thought it up all on my own."

Casper smiled at the idea. The smile faded when Sirius Black entered the infirmary. Black looked directly at Draco.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"Can't walk around by myself."

"I thought you had an escort?"

"We ran into Peeves, and he took off."

Black looked unamused. "How unlucky."

Draco smirked. "Not for me. Peeves took off after him. And I came back here to wait." He smiled because he knew exactly what Sirius Black was thinking.

* * *

Sirius Black personally opened the classroom door for Draco. He followed the boy in, walking past him to speak to Professor Pettigrew. Pettigrew nodded his head and a happier Sirius Black left with two ten-year-olds in tow. 

With most of the seats taken, Draco ended up in the back corner next to Dean Thomas. His first question was what did I miss which was answered with "nothing".

"For the benefit of Mister Malfoy, I will start my introductory speech from the beginning," the Professor said. "My name is Peter Pettigrew, and I will be the first to admit that I never expected to be a teacher." He smiled. "There. Now we're all on the same page. To continue, I do not have as much field experience as your previous teacher. My specialty is, I regret to say, paperwork. As Deputy Minister for Internal Security, my task is to monitor who does what, both the good and the bad, as well as the results, whether it is a prison term in Azkaban or a letter of commendation for exemplary action."

Draco expressed little surprise when the professor gave a pointed look at Longbottom and Potter.

"As a result of my duties, however, I have a very good knowledge of which spells that the Dark Wizards are fond of. And I do know what spells should be used for defense. As you are only in your second year, please be content with the fact that you will be learning mostly shielding and disarming spells." He paused. "I seem to have run out of things to say. Are there any questions?"

When Hermione raised her hand, Pettigrew smiled. "Miss Granger, I was warned about you. If nothing else, you will be keeping me on my toes. What is your first question?"

Hermione stood up, then gave Draco a cautious look before she turned back to the teacher. "Sir, Harry Potter mentioned that you were there, the night HE disappeared."

"Ah," Pettigrew said with a sigh. "I was wondering how long it would take before that subject came up."

Pettigrew paused, as if remembering, but he suddenly had Draco's full attention. Draco had known that someone had pulled him out of the wreckage of his home, but he had never thought he would actually meet the man.

Pettigrew started by clearing his throat. "Most of you with wizarding backgrounds already know most of the story." He nodded toward Hermione. "And some of the more industrious of you will find out, now that you know what you are looking for. I will save the rest of you the trouble.

"It will have been Eleven years this Halloween. The war with He Who Must Not Be Named was going badly, although our side did have its share of successes. The Dark Lord had changed his tactics of random violence and instead began to target specific people. The Bones were his victims, and the Prewetts. Then a spy revealed that HIS next targets would be the Potters. That is when they decided to go into hiding, and they chose to use the Fidelius Charm. Does anyone here know what that is? Harry?"

Potter stood up. There was a smugness in his voice. "The Fidelius Charm is a very complicated spell which places a secret inside of a person: The Secret Keeper. No one can know what that secret is unless the Secret Keeper tells them. And if the Secret Keeper dies, everyone in turn becomes a secret keeper."

"Very good, Harry. You know your family history." Pettigrew paused again. "And I am about to tell you something that, so far, I have only told my first class, and before that only select members of the Ministry. James said it would be fine as the spell had been cancelled long ago. The Potters chose to make their location a secret, and chose as their Secret Keeper . . . Harry?"

"My godfather, Sirius Black."

Pettigrew shook his head. "Everyone who knew us, even then, knew that Sirius Black and James Potter were best mates, almost brothers. He was the obvious choice. And he knew it. So he devised his own scheme. I was made the Secret Keeper and Sirius Black merely pretended it was he, and went into hiding."

Several students were surprised but none were more surprised than Potter. "You, Uncle . . . Professor?"

Pettigrew gave a sad laugh. "I was never a brave man. I even told James and Sirius that I was the worst kind of coward. If I were a braver man, I would never have . . . let us say that things would have been different.

"It was Halloween night. I had always acted without thought of the consequences. That is why, when I spotted the Death Eaters, I chose the worst place to hide. A nearby abandoned warehouse." He shook his head. "They must have been close to when they received the summons, because when I slipped into the warehouse I saw a dozen or more masked figures. And as I watched, another two or three more apparated in. To make matters worse, I was seen at once by those closest to the door. I honestly thought I was dead." The sad laugh came again. "Do you know, all I had to do was keep walking down that street and nothing would have happened."

Draco was enthralled. The man admitted that he was little more than a stupid coward, and was now proving it. As the man continued, Draco tried to picture in his mind what he was hearing. How Pettigrew found himself in the midst of the Death Eaters, and was brought face to face with the Dark Lord himself. How he tried to save his life by lying, by claiming he had come to serve and that his proof was the location of Sirius Black. Pettigrew admitted that his mind was filled with fantasies. That they would surprise Black but it would really be Black surprising them. That Sirius Black was smart enough to know the impossible and have the Ministry prepared for an ambush of their own. Closer to reality was the thought that he could convince the Dark Lord to let him verify that Sirius Black was where he thought the man would be.

Voldemort had other plans, although the Professor never said his name. He welcomed Pettigrew and promised him wealth and power if he were telling the truth, and a painful death that would come slowly if he were lying. Then fate played a hand. Voldemort told Pettigrew that they would visit Sirius Black together. But first, he would show him what happened to those who were disloyal. They apparated to a location that Pettigrew did not know. A small bungalow off a back road.

"I watched as the Dark Lord cast a spell, causing the front door to explode into a thousand pieces. Then Lucius Malfoy's voice could be heard shouting."

Draco, in the back of the room mouthed the words, "Save them."

"A bright green light filled the windows. Lucius Malfoy was dead. The killing curse. I waited in fear, knowing what would happen next. A second flash of light." His voice broke as he said the name, "Lily Malfoy."

Pettigrew wiped his eyes as he apologized. "And then the unexpected happened. Not a flash of light, but a great noise like an explosion, except that everything fell inward." He paused for effect. "I never saw the Dark Lord again. I never knew what happened to him. But as I stood there staring at the pile of rubble, I heard a noise." Pettigrew looked to the back row. "It was you, Mister Malfoy. You were crying for all you were worth. And that was when I did the only brave thing I've ever done. I climbed through all of that rubble, and brought you out."

Pettigrew shrugged his shoulders. "I told everyone what I did. Harry, I begged your father to forgive me. But they made me a hero, instead. They tried to find a place for me and that was when they discovered my true skills. I am a born bureaucrat. And until today, I have been happily filing parchments for the Ministry." He smiled shyly. "The truth is they insisted on promoting me, the man who tricked the Dark Lord, so I happily tell other people to file the parchments."

He cleared his throat. "I think that is all we have time for today, Unless there are any other questions, we can all sneak out of class early?" He smiled when no one raised a hand and called the class dismissed.

* * *

"Lucky break for him," Dean Thomas said as they left the classroom. "Draco?" 

"Sorry. I was thinking. What did you say?"

Dean caught Draco's tone. "Look, I know he was talking about your parents, about the night they died. How do you talk about that?"

Draco tried to smile. "I guess the best thing is to make a bad joke and talk about something else."

"Such as?"

Draco did smile. "Good point. Did you know that I'm the reason that Potter's here? If that Dark Lord had decided not to waste his time on baby Draco . . . my life would have been a lot better."

Dean grinned widely. "Harry went the other way. He never even heard you."

Draco shrugged. "Maybe I can repeat it later on."

"Don't," Hermione told him. "Harry's shook up enough as it is."

Both Dean and Draco looked at her for an explanation.

"Harry discovered exactly how close his family came to dying. Or do either of you believe that Professor Pettigrew would have managed to escape on his own?"

Draco looked at Dean. "I know it's not proper, but hearing that does make me feel better."

* * *

It was hard for Draco, hearing in such detail the events of his parents' death. Once back in the Gryffindor Tower, he sat in a chair as far away from everyone as possible and proceeded to open one of his books. It didn't matter which one. It was only excuse to be left alone. He was so obvious that no one even bothered to ask if he was going to have lunch. 

Being alone in the tower, Draco went to his dorm and pulled out his diary. He thought it might help him if he wrote down what he heard. He returned to the common room. He then sat at a table for most of an hour with the book open and a quill in his hand. The entranceway opened and someone rushed in. The flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye said it was a Weasley, and a short one (by comparison).

"Wotcha, Ginny."

"Watch what?" Ginny asked from behind him as she paused.

"Sorry, I was trying to say Hi. I forgot myself."

A giggle. "Fred told me you like to use a fancy voice at school."

Draco turned when he heard the easy tone of her voice. "Sorry, I . . . I said I was sorry already. Well, never mind that. I was curious. All the other first years stare, and nothing else. Don't you think there's something wrong with me?"

"You're a friend of the twins. Of course there's something wrong with you." She was laughing again. Then she twisted her head slightly. "Is that a school book?"

Draco hastily closed the book. "It's, um, personal."

Ginny's eyes held the same glint that Fred's or George's did when they were planning something. "Could I see?"

"NO." More calmly, Draco added, "I told you it was personal."

"It's a diary. Isn't it? You're keeping a diary." She walked over to the table. "What were you writing about?"

Draco looked at the table. He told her he was writing about his parents. He mentioned that the new Defense teacher was there the day they died. As he wiped his eye, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Ginny's voice held a sense of fear as she said she was sorry. She gave a nervous giggle and said she knew diaries were personal but she never thought how personal they could be.

"You don't keep a diary?" Draco asked. As he looked up and smiled, he had a thought. "Would you like to?" Then he was forced to explain. His godmother gave him a couple of used books. One was a school text. But the other was a fancy diary for some posh who never used it. Since he already had one of his own, she was more than welcome to it. As long as she didn't mind the fact that someone else's name was on the cover.

A minute later, Draco was handing the book to Ginny. She laughed when she read the name on it, and told Draco she'd claim it was her secret identity. As the entranceway opened up for the first returning students, Ginny thanked him and said that her first entry would be about this wonderful boy she just met. She ran up the stairs to her dorm and Draco sat back down at his table. Talking to someone, just talking, made him feel better. But now he had a different problem. He finally felt like eating and it was almost time for him to go to his next class. He asked Ron Weasley to escort him.

As they walked, Ron mentioned how Fred and George talked about him over the summer holiday. Draco said he had heard. That they showed up for his birthday party. When he laughed, he had to explain about Hermione and the hose. And Ron also gave him a warning. Fred and George had told their father that Draco's house was a muggle version of their own. Draco might find himself invited to spend part of his holiday just so his father to discuss things. "Dad's mad about muggles, you know. He thinks they're fascinating."

* * *

It was Friday. The last class was over for the week and there was enough time before dinner to pay a visit. As though they had never left off for the summer, Justin was already there when Draco and Hermione arrived at Hagrid's hut. Hot tea was already waiting for them. 

Hagrid insisted on hearing all about their summer holidays. Draco's birthday and the surrounding events took up most of the time. They all promised to visit again the next day to tell him everything else. Hagrid smiled as he told them that everything else had to include why Justin and Draco had their detentions tonight.

Justin groaned. He had been assigned to Argus Filch. And he was already informed that he would be cleaning every trophy in the trophy case. By hand. Draco smiled wanly. He had the mixed fortune of visiting Professor Pettigrew. Who knew what he would be doing. Hermione helped their moods by telling them that they deserved it. Maybe next time they would take their responsibilities seriously.

Dinner was more lively than usual, as the weekend was here, but Draco felt none of the joy. He seemed worried about what was going to happen. At least Justin knew what to expect. When it was almost quarter to eight, Hermione escorted him to Pettigrew's office. To be fair, she did try to reassure him that it could be an informative evening. He might want to test Draco on how much he knows. She whispered that he could show him a few of those spells that Professor Snape had been teaching him. Draco groaned inwardly at the thought of another school lesson but he put on his best smile and told Hermione she could be right.

"Good, you're on time," Professor Pettigrew said when they arrived. Hermione excused herself, saying she was tired from Quidditch practice that morning. Pettigrew thanked Hermione as he ushered Draco inside. "Those are the bookcases. And these are the boxes. All twelve of them. I haven't had a chance to unpack properly and I am grateful for the help." He smiled pleasantly. "Even if it isn't voluntary. Unpack all of the books and place them on the shelves, starting at the top left. And I want them alphabetical according to the author." He paused. "Yes. That should be boring and tedious enough to qualify as a punishment."

Draco emptied each box, sorting them as he went. It took him over an hour but he had twelve piles of books. One by one he began to take them and put them on the shelves. Occasionally, he would glance over at the Professor who was at his desk going through a stack of homework parchments. As Draco finished the second shelf, Pettigrew called to him.

"Why don't we both take a break. I could use a good cup of tea."

Draco obediently sat in the appointed chair and took a proffered cup after the professor made it appear. He even smiled when Pettigrew pointed to a tray of crackers. As Draco took his first bite, Pettigrew sighed.

"You should know that Bellatrix Black is an old friend of mine. Ever since the . . . incident with her husband."

"You know her, Sir?"

"Very well, I should think. She asked me to look in on Casper for her when she found out he was in the infirmary. You know what her reaction was when I told her what I had seen and what Casper had told me."

Draco sat there, half eaten cracker in his hand. Her reaction had been the Howler. "I should apologize, I suppose, if she'll let me."

Pettigrew smiled. He leaned forward as though to reveal a great secret. "You don't have to. She had a long talk with her son when he arrived home, and talked to me again that night. She was impressed by your scheme to have Casper try to spy on the Potters. And I agree with her."

"But . . ." Draco was confused. "I thought you were friends with them? Harry Potter almost called you Uncle during our first class."

"I am. And I am friends with Bellatrix as well. I will be the first to admit that James is excellent at what he does; He is a top-ranked Auror. But he does let his suspicions, and his feelings, take hold of him at times. And that isn't always good. He never trusted Bella, and he would jump at the chance to prove me wrong about her. Casper being friends with William Potter will give his mother a chance to learn if James is planning anything untoward. Also, I personally hope, it may make James see Bella in a more favourable light." Pettigrew laughed. "And it might even help Casper to grow up a little bit. The way he let Bella dress him. He must have been a sight to see."

Draco had to laugh as well. The professor had let him know that he wasn't the only one who thought Casper was too tightly tied to his mother's apron strings.

"She won't yell at me, then?" he dared to ask.

Pettigrew told him with a grin, "she even admitted that there might be hope for you. With the emphasis on 'might'."

Draco's mood was lighter when he went back to his task. The professor struck him as a decent man. He may be a close friend of the James Potter, but he did not let that blind him to the man's faults. And the man was also a friend of his godmother. That was a second reason to like him. As Draco worked, he also thought about the first defense class. And as he thought, something began to trouble him, as if something was wrong. At one point, when he was down to four dozen books, he dared to ask.

"Professor? Why did you tell everyone that story? About my parents."

"You finally thought to ask? It was because of you, and what you did last term. Everyone is talking about how the Dark Lord has shown himself. And no few parents of some of my students have already made inquiries about what my plans are. I'm sorry if I caused you any pain by reminding you of bad memories, but I wanted every student to know, and I hope they tell their parents, that I am not a great hero. I merely happened to be there. I was only a witness. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

"I suppose so."

"You obviously don't. Many wizarding families believe that I helped bring about the fall of the Dark Lord. That I was the reason he went after your parents." Neither made any pretense of working by this point. "I wanted to make clear that I was not responsible for what happened that night. I stumbled upon a meeting of his followers, the Death Eaters. It was clear to me, and I had hoped it was clear to every one of my students, that HE had already planned the destruction of the Malfoys. That meeting was so that his followers would know what he was planning. So that they would know not to show any disloyalty to their master. I meant what I said, that I was only a spectator." He walked over and put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "And let me add, a spectator who managed to pull you out of the wreckage that was your house before it completely collapsed. I saved your life, Draco. And that makes me feel responsible for you."

Another voice spoke at that point, a cold voice filled with venom.

"_Come . . . Come to me . . . Let me rip you . . . Let me tear you . . . Let me kill you . . ."_

"WHOT?" Draco shouted in fear.

Pettigrew looked surprised. "I said that I . . ."

"No," Draco was looking around frantically, trying to find the source. "That voice . . . it said . . ." He stared at the professor. "Didn't you hear it?"

Pettigrew looked concerned. "I heard nothing, Draco. Tell me, what did the voice say?"

"It . . . It said it wanted to kill me." Draco tried to keep the fear out of his voice and knew he failed.

Pettigrew gave him a kind smile, the type of smile you give to a small child. "It's late. And you do have an active imagination." He ushered Draco to the door. "Perhaps I should take you back to Gryffindor."

"I'm not making this up," Draco insisted, but he let the professor guide him out of his office.

"I know." A pause. "Draco. When I talked to Casper (and I didn't tell Bellatrix about this), he mentioned that, when you were on the train, you claimed you saw a face. And that the face was on the outside of the train."

Draco knew, now, that it was Dobby. And he also knew, although he didn't know why, that Dobby was trying to help him. "That was just my imagination, Sir. Really."

Pettigrew gave him the kind smile again. "Exactly. As was hearing the voice. Now, I know that Professor Snape was giving you special lessons last year (to make sure you were his best student) and I also know that you had a special lesson yesterday. Perhaps, and just perhaps, you are trying to do too much. When we get you back to your house, get some rest. And spend the weekend relaxing. That's an order from one of your teachers. Have some fun."

Draco nodded. Telling him that Dobby was his imagination was not a good idea. At least that was what his afterthought told him. But the voice had seemed so real, so full of menace.

When Pettigrew said he would talk to Professor Snape about the private lessons, Draco only nodded his head. He would wait until he had the chance to talk to Hermione and Justin. He knew they would believe him.


	6. Halloween

A/N: I have corrected the inevitable spelling error. It seems that at least one hides until after I've posted the chapter before making itself obvious. I've decided to blame all future misspellinggs on Computer Gremlins. They arre notoriius fur cuasing thees thinsg.

Mandraco did note that Draco got a detention because he had to. That is one of the problems with writing an alternate history and you have a convergence in the plot (Something happens in this story that also happened in the original). Sometimes it becomes obvious what you are doing and why. At least I did manage, I think, to give a good reason for the detention.

My thanks to all of the reviewers for letting me know how much they liked Pettigrew and the ambiguity about his background.

**Chapter 6: Halloween**

Draco told Hermione about the chilling voice he had heard during his detention with Professor Pettigrew. Her response was to give him a sullen look. She said they should talk about it later. Her attitude convinced Draco not to mention it to anyone else.

The following Friday, when they were gathered after classes at Hagrid's hut, Draco decided to bring up the subject again. Hagrid's remark was that it wasn't a natural thing to hear voices. Justin suggested that it might be related to the face he saw. That remark caused Hagrid to give Draco a concerned look. Hermione pointed out that both things were normally considered a sign of a mental breakdown, and counseled Draco not to say anything outside of the group. She added for his benefit that considering the unusual event at King's Cross Station, there might be a logical explanation. They were dealing with magic, and Voldemort did show himself only three months before.

Draco gave a wry laugh. Either he was going crazy or there was great evil afoot. Justin's laugh had more humour in it when he said it could be both. Who knew what went on in the minds of dragons. He added helpfully that they should wait and see what happened next, for no other reason than that they had nothing else to do.

The conversation turned to other things. Hagrid laughed as the students described their experiences with repotting mandrake roots. A sullen Draco said that it was a plant and it should not have bitten him.

Hermione had to tell everyone how Quidditch practice was going. She didn't want to but Hagrid insisted. Oliver Wood was planning on keeping the same team as last year, including her. They would have tryouts for anyone who wanted to join, but Wood already made it clear, particularly to Potter, he was looking for backup. Hermione said that Potter took it graciously. While he would want to be on the team, he was willing to live with being able to practice with them. What Hermione did not say, but everyone knew, was that Potter hoped that Hermione's luck would fail and he could have his old position back.

Draco did mention that he still had his special classes with Professor Snape, although they contained as much conversation as they did lessons. Professor Snape liked the fact that Draco knew enough about magic to be interested in the theory behind the practice. Draco wouldn't have phrased it that way. He was always interested in why things worked as much as how they worked. All in all, he was going to have an interesting year.

When tryouts came, Draco was at the pitch with a Cleansweep Seven that "Uncle Severus" had lent him. He tried his best for one of the chaser positions and thought he did rather well. Longbottom and Potter where also there and made it a point to show how poorly he flew. Both did well enough to be told they would be considered as backup. Draco couldn't help but notice that Longbottom seemed the more pleased of the two.

As they walked back to the school after the practice, a tired Hermione still had the strength to point out to Draco that he needed to improve his turning skills. He flew well enough but he couldn't even be considered until he learned how to make sharper turns. Draco thanked her. When she asked why he was smiling, he told her that last year she was always too nervous to talk about flying. Now that she was a seasoned veteran, she was giving pointers to the newbies. Hermione blushed lightly. She told both him and Justin that her confidence came from the good friends who always stood behind her.

And that was that. For the next few weeks, nothing unusual happened. Colin Creevey, now convinced that Draco was dangerous to be around, tried to avoid him lest he be forced to chaperone him again. But he also proved to be a shutterbug and asked Draco, when plenty of people were around, if he could take the older boy's picture. Draco was not surprised. Colin was making a photographic record of the entire school. Then Colin asked him a favour. He had taken group pictures of all the Quidditch teams, except Slytherin. They always snarled at him whenever he came near. Draco mentioned it to Professor Snape, who scowled at the idea. But the following weekend, Draco noticed an ecstatic Colin Creevey returning from the Quidditch pitch. He told Draco he was sending a complete set of pictures to his family.

When Draco asked what Colin's plans were for the future, the boy admitted that he was going to complete his collection of portraits of all the teachers. (Dumbledore had already posed for him.) Then he was going to try to photograph all of the ghosts. When Draco asked if that included Peeves, Colin remembered something important he had to do and quickly left.

One other thing occurred. Draco found himself in the library with Crabbe and Goyle. Both had been admonished about copying other student's homework and had to do eight inches on the History of Magic. That was Eight Inches Each, Crabbe explained. Goyle pointed out that it couldn't even be about the same thing. Draco asked them what they liked. Both said Quidditch and food. Three days later, both boys handed in their papers. Gregory had written ten inches on the grossest violations in Quidditch games throughout history. Vince managed nine inches on how tastes in desserts had changed over the past five hundred years. He also gained five pounds by insisting he had to try all of the desserts so he would know what he was talking about.

For a while, Draco did try to think about Dobby but the questions always begged for answers. Least of all was the question of what type of creature Dobby was. More important to Draco, and also without answers, was the question of why Dobby had blocked the entrance to the Platform, and why he helped Draco to listen in on the conversation between Black and Pettigrew. Draco hoped and feared that the creature might show up again. But, as nothing happened, these questions, too, faded away.

Halloween came. Draco was looking forward to the feast. But Hermione had a different plan, and not a pleasant one. Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor House Ghost had asked her to come to his party. He was having a deathday party, to celebrate the 400th anniversary of his death. He asked Hermione to come. Draco asked why. Hermione demurred. She owed him a favour. She mumbled something about Filch and rain. Draco remembered her telling him one weekend when it was raining that Filch tried to give her detention for coming back from Quidditch and soaking the floors or something. She had said she had a narrow escape. He didn't pry, but only asked if Sir Nicholas was responsible for the escape. Hermione nodded.

Sir Nicholas, or Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington to give his full name, was also known as Nearly Headless Nick. It seemed that he was the victim of a botched beheading. His head was still attached to his neck on one side. His favorite habits were to tip his head when greeting students, and to bemoan the fact that he has been perennially denied membership in the Headless Hunt, a group of ghosts who met their demises by more competent executioners.

Draco offered to go with her. Hermione was polite but let it be known that his presence would not be appreciated. Draco did not know if he should be insulted or relieved. Either way, it was still a reminder that while he had defeated the Dark Lord, he was still looked upon by many as an alternative evil. Most people were polite to him, just in case, but there were still few he could call his friends.

Fred and George were more than happy to take Draco to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. It gave them a chance to find out what Hermione was up to. It also explained why Colin Creevey was standing next to Hermione while looking like he was talking to Draco. The first year was taking his camera with him to take pictures of the feast. (Colin, after developing the pictures, would become Sir Nicholas's favorite Gryffindor.) The twins ushered Draco to the Gryffindor table and plopped him down next to Lee Jordan. Lee was a tall black boy, almost as tall as the Weasleys, long dreadlocks, and a voice he could project with skill. He could always be heard by whomever he was talking to, even in a room as crowded and noisy as the Great Hall. (It was the reason he always announced the Quidditch matches.)

And it was a grand feast. Draco had his first candy apple, as well as several things he had never tried before. The exception was the bowl of peppermint imps. One of the imps bit him when he tried to pick it up. Things are always biting me, Draco thought. Determined to be sick for a week, Draco was eating his fourth piece of pie, this one was key lime, when he heard it. The voice was barely audible, as though someone in the hall, not too close by, was shouting. And it was coming from beneath him.

"_Rip . . .Tear . . .Kill . . ."_

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" It was Lee who asked.

"That voice," Draco insisted as he stood up, straining to hear the faint echoing voice.

Everyone around Draco became quiet, staring at him because of his sudden outburst. As a result, he heard the voice more clearly when it spoke again.

"_Kill . . . Time to kill . . ."_

"Kill. It said it's time to kill."

Instinctively, Draco ran out of the Great Hall. All he could think about was finding the source of the voice and stopping it. He ran up to the marble staircase and stopped. He heard the voice more clearly, but it was growing fainter, as though it was moving away. It was above him, perhaps one floor, no more than two.

"_I smell blood . . . I SMELL BLOOD."_

"BLOOD," Draco repeated, not knowing if anyone heard him. He pulled out his wand and ran up to the first floor, then to the second floor. Racing down one corridor to the next, looking for a sign of . . . anything. He ran down one hall and lost his footing when he stepped in a puddle of water. He threw his arms in front of him to break his fall, and his wand went flying. Picking himself up, he went for his wand. He stopped suddenly as he saw what was also there.

Mrs. Norris.

She was hanging, stiff and unmoving, from one of the wall sconces. In surprise, Draco stepped back and saw what was on the wall between two windows. Words written in red.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Fear gripped Draco. Suddenly, he understood his folly. His reaction to the surprise of hearing the voice was the worst thing he could do. Everyone had seen him run out and, even if he fled the scene, many would assume he was the heir, regardless of what he was heir to. A dead cat and writing made to look like blood would convict him more surely than anything.

A camera flashed. Draco looked over and saw Colin standing there with Hermione. He was grinning as usual but his grin faded as he found out what it was he had taken a picture of. Behind Hermione and Colin were Fred and George. And others were following.

"What is all this?" a gruff voice said as Argus Filch came storming forward. He paused to glare at Hermione then walked over to Draco. He was halfway there when he spotted Mrs. Norris. "My cat?" He turned to Draco, anger burning in his eyes. "YOU KILLED MY CAT." He grabbed Draco and shook him before the boy could react. "I'll kill you for that. I'll . . ."

"ARGUS!"

Dumbledore's voice boomed as he arrived on the scene. And the voice had the desired effect. Filch regained his composure. He still had Draco in a painful grip, but he was enough in control of himself to not do more than hold the boy in place.

"Headmaster, look what he did. LOOK what he did to my cat."

Filch paused as he saw Dumbledore's eyes look upward. Draco knew what the man was looking at. Most of the now sizeable crowd were reading the words as well. Looking at the crowd, most of those who were looking back were either angry or afraid or both.

Dumbledore walked forward until he was face to face with Mrs. Norris. As he examined the cat he suggested, in a low voice, that Filch let go of Draco as he was obviously hurting the boy. He added that Draco was not going to run away. As Draco rubbed his sore arm, Dumbledore examined the cat more closely.

"Argus," he said in a voice loud enough for most everyone to hear, "your cat is not dead. It has been petrified."

"He did it," Filch said with certainty. "I know he did."

"Headmaster." It was Professor Snape. He had walked up with Professors McGonagall and Pettigrew without Draco noticing it. "Did you say the cat was petrified? How?"

"I don't know Severus. But we should take care of something else first." Dumbledore turned to the students and suggested they all return to their dorms; their heads of house would be informed of anything that was discovered. He made four exceptions, beside Draco. The Weasley Twins, Hermione and Colin were asked to stay. The teachers and the five students waited as the crowd dispersed. Dumbledore then asked Colin if he had taken a picture. Colin told him he did. Dumbledore insisted that he be given a print at Colin's earliest convenience. He then dismissed him and Hermione. When Hermione objected, Dumbledore assured her that Draco would undoubtedly tell her everything.

Dumbledore then questioned the Weasleys. Everyone in the hall had seen Draco stand up and run out, but the Twins would have heard what Draco said. Fred and George repeated everything word for word. They had followed Draco out of the hall in time to hear him shout the word, 'blood'.

McGonagall made tsking noises every now and then, while Filch continued to mutter under his breath. Dumbledore listened to everything the Weasleys had to say and then turned to Draco. He asked no question.

"Sir. I din't do none of it."

"And should I believe you?"

Pettigrew cleared his throat. "Headmaster," he said in a shaky voice. "Forgive me for interrupting but he is telling the truth."

Dumbledore eyed Pettigrew carefully. "And how can you know that?"

Pettigrew waved his hand. "He may have had plenty of time to petrify Mister Filch's cat, but not to write all of this. Unless he has mastered fifth level spells already." He looked at Snape.

"He knows some third level spells," Snape admitted, giving Pettigrew an appreciative look. "And I've taught him the basics of some of the fourth level spells. Unless he had some hidden talent, creating the writing, much less what happened to the cat, is beyond his skill. We can test his wand for proof."

"Your wand," Dumbledore asked as he held out his hand.

"It's . . . " Draco said as he felt his pocket. He turned his head as he remembered that he had never picked his wand up.

"It's over here," Pettigrew said as he walked down the hallway a few feet. "I assume you dropped it in surprise," he noted as he picked up the wand.

"I fell, slipped on the water. Bathroom must have flooded or something."

Pettigrew handed the wand to Dumbledore, who performed the revealing spell. It showed the last spell, a retrieval charm. Draco explained that they were practicing in Professor Flitwick's class. Dumbledore handed the wand to Draco and told him to put it away. He turned to Professor Snape.

"I will leave it to you, Severus, to prepare the restorative potion."

"I will try," Snape answered, "but I fear I may be short on some of the ingredients." He excused himself, pausing to give Draco a sad look before he turned and left.

Dumbledore turned to the twins. "I suppose I should thank you for your honesty, and I apologize for keeping you here. You may go. And please don't exaggerate things too much when you tell your housemates what we discussed."

"Not to much," Fred admitted with a grin. George flashed an identical smile and said, "C'mon, Dragon. The fun's over."

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Draco won't be going back to Gryffindor tonight. I think it might be best that he go to the infirmary. Peter, will you do the honours? Ask Madam Pomfrey to give him as thorough an examination as possible."

Fred and George walked off in one direction. Pettigrew led Draco in the opposite direction. Draco looked back before they turned a corner and saw Dumbledore helping Filch remove his cat from the sconce.

"I'm not hurt," Draco said once he and Pettigrew were alone.

"Not physically," Pettigrew admitted.

"I ain't nutters," came the angry reply.

"Draco. Please don't be upset." Pettigrew laughed. "I'm sorry. After what happened, I doubt even I could not follow that advice. But do try to understand. You claim you saw a face floating outside the window when you were on a moving train. You later claimed in my office that you heard voices. You made that same claim today. But according to the Weasley Twins, you said it was time to kill, then ran out of the Great Hall. Alone. They followed you outside and heard you cry 'blood' and run off up the stairs. And we found you staring at Argus Filch's cat. That does not bode well."

Draco hung his head. "You make it sound as though I'm radio rental, a'right."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, um, mental. You make me sound mental."

"That wasn't my intention. But I think the headmaster wants to be sure there is no physical cause for you to be hearing or seeing things. And after tonight, few people will think you're, er, mental because of that."

Pettigrew opened the door to the infirmary and ushered Draco inside. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him. She directed Draco to his usual bed. It was his first overnight stay this year.

* * *

"You're healthy," Madam Pomfrey told Draco when he awoke the next morning. "And you are free to go as soon as I can get someone to escort you." She smiled at the boy as she sat down next to his bed. "Is there anything you care to tell me?"

"Didn't anyone say anything?"

"The headmaster came by after you were asleep. He told me everything that he knew. I thought you might like to add to it. In the past, you've always kept a few things to yourself."

Draco shrugged as he worked himself into a sitting position. "Didn't think to, this time. You probably know more than I do." He paused as concern filled his face. "Did you tell the Minister?"

"Dumbledore will do that. Draco, you do understand how serious a matter this is? After what happened last year, everyone will assume the Dark Lord is behind this. Your behavior is going to provoke certain rumours. Can you guess what these will be?"

"I'm the heir?"

"An obvious one. I'm sure that idea is already being discussed. A more serious one that will occur is that when You-Know-Who fled Professor Quirrell's body he inhabited another one."

"Mine? But wouldn't I know about it?"

"Of course, you would. But would you admit it? Or, in a nicer version, could you? Dumbledore told me that at least one member of the staff has suggested either possibility. Others are sure to think along the same lines."

Draco sighed as he stared at the ceiling. How could he deal with this? Such a rumour had a built-in explanation for him denying it. "I'm doomed. Everyone will hate me now."

"I think they may be more honest about their feelings toward you. I don't believe many people will change their opinions."

Draco looked curiously at Madam Pomfrey. What she said was astute, although Draco would not have used that word. It could help him in the long run. He had his friends, and there were people who would talk to him. His friends he could trust, but the others? It was a chance to separate the merely curious from the potential allies. He frowned at the thought: Allies for what? He knew himself well enough to understand that his mind, his subconscious, was working on a plan. He even thought he knew what it was. But? He suddenly knew. It was there all along. He hated Voldemort. He wanted his revenge. But he couldn't do it by himself.

"What are you thinking?" Madam Pomfrey asked after his silence had continued for too long.

Draco smiled. "I think I know how to take advantage of this."

"Of everyone being afraid of you?"

Draco nodded. "Professor Snape told me last year. Show them why they should be afraid."

Madam Pomfrey groaned. "What are you planning to do?"

"Don't know yet. I'm thinking of telling people I'm going to find the heir. Those that think it's me, it'll confuse them. But others may think I'm fighting the Dark Lord . . . I could end up with a few more friends out of this . . . if I don't mess up."

"Draco, don't forget. Someone has tried to kill you. If you do 'mess up', that person may have company."

Draco shrugged his shoulders again. "Don't have a choice. Not really. The only other thing I can do is nothing."

This time Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Draco Malfoy, twelve years old and going on forty. Be careful of what you do. It could come back to haunt you."

* * *

It was Justin who showed up, shortly after morning classes ended. He was smiling. He was also nervous.

"We had a house meeting about you again," the Hufflepuff told his friend. "Remember I told you that we decided to take a wait and see attitude?"

"Let me guess. They decided they've seen enough."

"Close. Some said that. Some are saying we don't know enough. And . . ." Justin cleared his throat. ". . . A lot are saying something happened to you last year. You might be, um, not yourself."

Draco stared at his friend. "I'm not crazy."

"I agree," Justin said hastily. "But everyone knows that you've been hearing voices. I didn't say anything about you seeing things, like that face. I just wanted you to know. If we're thinking these things, so are the other houses." His face became stern. "Don't forget. There are plenty of students who don't like you. They're sure to spread the worst rumours about you."

Draco shook his head. It seemed as though whatever he did would only make matters worse. But he had to do something. "Care to go to the Great Hall? I'm starved."

Justin laughed, in relief it seemed. He agreed with his mate that getting something to eat was a wonderful idea. On the way, Draco admitted he was curious what Potter would be saying. If anyone in Gryffindor would paint him in a bad light, he was the obvious choice.

As they neared the Great Hall, Draco set his plan in motion. He said the sentence he had prepared in his head. "I'm going to find him, Justin, this heir, and when I do I'm going to make him pay."

Looking past Justin, Draco 'failed to notice' two Slytherins look at him. He also didn't notice a first year from Ravenclaw and another one from Gryffindor, the Weasley girl. They all looked surprised. Except for the Ravenclaw. She looked amused.

"What was that?" Justin asked in a whisper.

"I mean it," Draco said in a low voice as well. "I'm going to find out who it is."

Justin smiled. "Rumours are already saying you're mental. I hope they're right. I'm in."

Once in the Hall, the two parted. As Justin went to his table, Draco looked for Hermione. He had a great deal to explain. He sat down next to her and said hello. She turned her head and smiled.

"You know what I like best about you, Draco? Whenever I have a bad day, you always make sure you have a worse one, and all to make me feel better."

"Thanks, Hermione. That makes me feel better."

"This will. Seamus Finnigan from Hufflepuff says that if you really did kill Filch's cat then it proves you're not evil."


	7. Quidditch

A/N: Young Prewett had the right of it when he pointed out that I had switched some people around to balance the houses. I suspect that's what the Sorting Hat does, anyway. As for Seamus, I did show him with the Hufflepuffs last year at Christmas, when Draco rode with them in the coach.

And I agree with Mandraco. Not taking responsibility for your actions is very important. It's tops on my list. You did mean it that way. Didn't you?

**Chapter Seven: Quidditch**

Draco casually mentioned a few more times that he would make it his personal project to find out who the heir was. Hermione wished him good luck on each occasion and spent most of the next week at the Quidditch pitch.

It was Hermione, however, who took the first step in the task. It was in History. She gave Draco a smile, then raised her hand. When Professor Binns (who happened to be a ghost) noticed her, he paused uncertainly. It must have been a long time since anyone had tried to ask a question.

"I was wondering, Professor, if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets."

"Our lesson today is on the Goblin revolts," Binns told her.

"I know, Professor, but in view of what has happened, everyone is curious."

Draco had to chime in. "I would be interested, Sir."

At that, several other students added their voices. Professor Binns hesitated then took off his glasses. Draco knew inside himself that it was a nervous reaction on the part of the ghost, and that meant . . .

"Well," Professor Binns began, "this is not the prepared lesson but I will tell you what I know. The Chamber of Secrets is only a legend, but it is a legend that dates back to the founding of this school. One of the founders, Salazar Slytherin, felt that the school should restrict itself to educating only those children who came from a background of magic. He was overruled by the other founders who felt that anyone capable of magic, regardless of background, should be admitted. In time, this disagreement led to Slytherin leaving the school.

"According to the legends, Slytherin built the chamber before he left, and inside of it he placed a monster. It is also said that this chamber could only be opened by himself or his heir."

One of the students raised his hand. "Do you know where the Chamber is, Professor?"

"What? No one does. The school has been searched dozens of times over the years and no sign of any secret chamber has ever been found. As I said, it is only a myth."

Binns put his glasses back on and opened his ghostly book. He then continued with the daily lesson as though no question had ever been asked.

Draco smiled when Hermione turned his way. As clever as he thought himself, it would have been some time before he ever thought of asking the most obvious person, the History Professor. And he now knew whose heir it was. Before the class ended, he decided it was time to do something.

After the last class was over and there was still time before the evening meal Draco met up with Justin. Justin agreed to help him in his initial search, the scene of the crime. With amusement, he followed Draco to the second floor corridor where the crime was committed. Draco scowled when he saw that everything had been cleaned up. Acting the detective, he said that a study of the handwriting might give them a clue. Justin cheerfully agreed, causing Draco to frown. Draco tried to explain his line of thought about what happened. Whoever did it should not have had time to escape, His next thought was to look around for a place to hide. He spotted one door and gave a smile of his own.

"The obvious hiding place."

Justin laughed. "You mean the person who attacked Mrs. Filch is a girl?"

Draco pointed to the door. "It doesn't have to be. This is the most obvious place to hide, even though it's the girls bathroom."

Justin nodded his head. "But a boy would never enter a girls bathroom. It would be a complete embarrassment if anyone found out."

Draco opened the door and walked in. He closed the door behind him. He opened the door again and looked out. "If he had just petrified Filch's cat, I think he would be more concerned about being found than where he was found."

Draco waved Justin forward and ushered him inside. Justin protested. "What if a girl walks in?"

"No one will," Draco assured him. "I talked with Hermione. This bathroom is haunted."

Justin laughed as though the idea was absurd. "Haunted? Who would haunt a bathroom?"

Both boys turned as gurgling noises came from one of the stalls. The ghostly figure of a girl, perhaps the same age as the twins, came through the stall door in a rage. She came directly for Justin.

"ARE YOU SAYING A BATHROOM'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME? WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHERE I CAN AND CANNOT HAUNT? AND YOU'RE A BOY. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE HERE ANYWAY."

She then raised her hand and smacked him in the face. Through the face, actually, although that was enough as far as Draco was concerned. A ghost's hand going through your head could not be a pleasant experience.

"I'm sorry," Justin said quickly. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"HUMPH," Myrtle said with a huff. She turned around and floated back to her stall. "The two of you had better leave. BOYS AREN'T ALLOWED IN HERE."

"Myrtle," Draco called out as the ghost turned away, but he was ignored. The ghost flew through one of the stall doors and disappeared. She would not return despite Draco calling her name a few more times.

As they left to head for the Great Hall, Draco explained that the ghost was called Moaning Myrtle. He had the idea that she might be able to tell them who the attacker was. Justin suggested that they try again, in two or three weeks.

* * *

Ron Weasley was sitting at a table with his sister and Dean Thomas. The three were listening to the discussion taking place further down the table. Fred and George thought it was hilarious that Moaning Myrtle yelled at Draco. Hermione reminded Draco that the ghost was supposed to be short tempered. When the twins and Hermione left for a late practice, Ron stopped Draco to ask about the ghost. Draco smiled as he sorted his thoughts. Even though it was only Ron Weasley asking, that meant that people were watching him and paying attention to what he was doing.

He explained to Ron that Myrtle haunted the girl's bathroom near to where they found Filch's cat. It might be a good idea, he thought, to ask Myrtle if she had seen or heard anything that night. Regretfully, they started off on the wrong foot. He would have to try again at a later date.

Ron's voice showed he was impressed. He also expressed his surprise that Draco was serious about finding out who the Heir was. Others were also interested and would make themselves known soon.

* * *

It was Saturday, only a week after Halloween. And it was the first Quidditch match of the school year. Gryffindor against Slytherin. Draco was just coming down the stairwell to the common room when he heard Potter's voice. Two more steps and he saw that the black-haired boy was talking to Hermione. "Just remember what I've taught you. Luck won't get you through another game."

Draco paused until he saw Hermione storm away, then he ran after her. "Need an escort, 'mione. Do you mind?"

Hermione gave him a wane smile. "At least I can do something right." As they left Gryffindor, she mentioned she had spotted Draco on the stair. She thanked him for giving her company. "Now, if you could say something to cheer me up. Harry knows a lot about Quidditch but he isn't a confidence builder."

Draco smiled. "Aw, he'd give you all the confidence in the world if he didn't think you had a chance. You have to understand Potterese. When he says you can't rely on luck it means he's the one who needs it. If he ever wants to play again. You must be good if he'd say something like that just before the match."

It worked. Hermione had her confidence back. As they approached the main hall, Justin appeared with Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan. Draco had to share how upset Potter was that he still wasn't Seeker. He repeated what was said in the common room. At Susan's urging, Hermione admitted that Potter had been making similar remarks all along. Never a direct insult, but always implying that she couldn't handle the position. Susan warned her not to try showing him up because it might come back at her. "Do what you did the last time. Play your best."

When they reached the pitch, Justin dragged Draco over to sit with the Hufflepuffs. Before the match began, several of the members of that house asked how Draco's search was going. Two were genuinely interested, Susan Bones and one of the boys in the fifth year. Ernie MacMillan hinted that it might be a ruse, to confuse people. Draco hinted that he might be right. One other student, a girl in the third year, politely said he was only pretending to search for the Heir, suggesting that he didn't have to look very far. Draco grinned and said he hadn't looked in a mirror, yet, but he would do that right after the match.

Finally, the whistle blew. Draco watched as Hermione flew high on her broom. She was easily more confident than she was last year. With mild interest he noticed that the Slytherins had a new Seeker. It was Theodore Nott, and he was flying a brand-new Nimbus 2001, the fastest broom around. Justin noticed and asked how he ever made the team. Susan Bones pointed to the team captain who was flying a new broom as well.

Draco laughed. "He bribed his way." He nodded appreciatively.

"The Notts were always cheap," Susan noted. "Anyone else would have bought new brooms for the entire team."

Both teams were playing hard, but Oliver Wood was the better Keeper and that gave his team the edge. In the meantime, Hermione spent most of an hour watching. Nott would race around from time to time but she rarely took the bait. As Wood knocked the quaffle away from the post and into the arms of Katie Bell, Hermione started to dive. Nott hesitated, then took off after her.

"It's there," Justin shouted. "She's seen the snitch."

Hermione dove until she was below the other players, then twisted to the right as the snitch changed its course. Suddenly, Fred Weasley came into view and knocked a bludger out of her way and directly at a Slytherin chaser. She passed him a second later. She veered again as the snitch made another course change, Draco cheering her on with the rest. He stopped in half cheer. The bludger that Fred Weasley had hit away was heading for Hermione again. He cringed as he saw it make contact and swerve off. Someone behind him said, "Merlin's beard, the bludger." Draco watched as the speeding ball curved on its own and headed for Hermione again. His friend sat on her broom, dazed from the first strike. It struck again. Hermione fell. Draco heard the thump as she hit the ground, but he wasn't watching her. The bludger was turning again and heading for Hermione once more. Then Fred was there again, but instead of hitting the bludger, he grabbed it, holding on as he, too, fell from his broom. But his fall was closer to the ground and more controlled. As with Hermione, he laid still once he landed but it was to keep the rogue ball from escaping. A whistle blew. Gryffindor had called for a time out.

Draco looked hatefully to the Gryffindor stands, trying to spot Potter. But Potter wasn't there. Neither was Longbottom. Draco's thoughts were that they were racing to the changing rooms. "Potter gets his chance to play," he said bitterly.

For ten minutes no one said anything. Cedric Diggory, looking down from the stand, told everyone Granger was going to be fine. He had seen Madam Pomfrey's gestures too many time to misunderstand. Draco sighed in relief, and asked Justin if he wouldn't mind being his escort to the infirmary. His heart wasn't in the game anymore. "Not with Potter playing."

"Why are they pointing here?" the person next to Cedric asked. Out of curiosity, Draco looked up. The girl was looking at the other stands. Where the Gryffindors sat. Someone with red hair (Ron Weasley) was the one pointing. His brother, probably George, was on his broom, and had Hermione's broom in his hand. George flew over to the Hufflepuff stands.

Draco, instead of leaving, made his way to the front row. While he was confused by what was going on, it was likely that George wanted to talk to him. Otherwise, he would have flown directly to the Hufflepuffs.

George smiled at him and turned to Cedric. He spoke in as childish a voice as possible. "Mister Diggory, can Draco come out to play?" Everyone turned to look at the blond boy.

"Whot?" Draco said in surprise. "You gone radio?"

"We do need a Seeker," George pointed out.

"Whot 'appened to Potter? An' Longbottom?"

"Don't know. They went missing as soon as the bludger went wonky." He turned serious. "We need a Seeker, and you are the best flyer we have left."

"I AIN'T PLAYIN'. 'alf the school thinks I fried Filch's cat. If I play, they'll think I squilched 'mione just fer the chance."

"If you don't," Justin told him from behind, "Gryffindor forfeits."

George smiled again, "And everyone will know it's your fault." He held out the broom.

Trapped in a dilemma, Draco took the broom and followed George to the changing room. Professor McGonagall was there. She quickly explained that she had transfigured the spare uniform to his size and to dress quickly. The game had to start and the longer he stayed in here, the longer the Slytherins had the advantage. She wished him luck as she left him to change.

Draco began to undress before the door even closed.

"Dobby is sorry," a voice cried as Draco was suddenly alone.

"Dobby?" He shook of the surprise. "Do you mind if I dress while you apologize?" He paused. Things were starting to become clear. "You jinxed the bludger?"

"Dobby was ordered to," the creature cried. "Dobby has to obey. Dobby is supposed to hurt Draco Malfoy if he plays."

Draco was already thinking. He didn't know why but everything suddenly made sense. It wasn't Potter. It was Nott. Not little Theodore, but his mother. The one person that had openly shown she despised him. And Mummy wants her son to win regardless of the cost. And Dobby must be owned by Narcissa Nott, his father's jilted lover. Draco's efforts at dressing quickly became rabid when he remembered one thing. Dobby, for some reason, liked Draco and wanted to help him.

"It's not the bludger again, is it?" Draco asked. Dobby shook his head no. "Then tell me, friend to friend, what is it I have to watch out for."

"Friend? Draco Malfoy called poor Dobby his friend."

Draco, proud of his speed, put on his gloves and grabbed the broom. He bent and put his free hand on Dobby's shoulder. "You came here to help me. That's what friends do. Dobby, I have to go out there, and I know you have to try to stop me. All I want to know is what to watch out for. I'm sure a friend could tell me that."

Dobby beamed at the words. Then he frowned. "Dobby has jinxed the broom. Draco Malfoy can fly all he wants but once he stops, the broom will fail."

Draco nodded. "And the instant I hover, I will fall like a rock." He smiled. "A clever plan, friend Dobby, but it won't work. I never learned how to stop a broom." He started to open the door which led to the pitch but hesitated and turned back to the elf. "Thank you, friend."

Dobby gave him an impossibly wide smile. "Friend Draco is welcome," he said as he faded from sight.

Draco opened the door, stepped outside and mounted the broom. "This is for you, Hermione." He kicked off the way he had been shown so many times, hoping that he had learned enough from Professor Snape to defeat his team. In the back of his mind he noted that would make two things he owed Uncle Severus.

There were cheers when Draco appeared, as well as hisses and boos. Draco flew up and circled the field. It was all he could think to do. He kept his eyes open but spotting the snitch was harder when you were moving, and he had to keep moving. The Slytherins had the Quaffle when Draco thought of something he could do for fun. He looked at Nott, who was sitting on his broom, then he dove. His intention was to fly right in front of the chaser and make him change course. But luck changed his plans. The chaser passed to a teammate when he saw his path blocked by two of the Gryffindors. At his speed, Draco needed to swerve only slightly. He tapped the ball as he flew past so that it went to Angelina Johnson instead. It helped his ego that Angelina then managed to get the quaffle through the hoops. He also found out, later, that he wasn't allowed to do that. Because Madam Hooch had missed seeing it, Draco had the luck of not having a foul called on him. That helped his ego even more.

It had been a half hour since Draco entered the pitch, and almost two hours since the match started, when Draco decided on his latest prank. He had already received one warning from Madam Hooch for interfering with another player. (She caught him the third time he tried the same trick.) There was a penalty throw as a result but Wood was able to block it. And now, Draco had his eye on his latest quarry. The boy whose mother was the reason his best friend in Gryffindor was in the infirmary.

First, he flew up as high as he dared. He leveled off and circled the pitch until he was where he wanted to be. Without slowing down he began his dive. He leveled off again, flying faster than he had ever done before. And he was aiming directly for Theodore Nott.

Nott looked up and saw him at the same time Draco saw something else. It was the snitch. It was just above and behind Nott. Draco's grin became maniacal as he realized he could do it. He could catch the snitch and win the game. And, his devious mind added, put the Slytherin Seeker into the cot next to Hermione. Nott suddenly looked very frightened and dropped down and away. With a laugh, Draco's hand made contact with the small golden ball and closed around it. A whistle blew, and Lee Jordan, the announcer was heard to say. "Draco Malfoy has caught the golden snitch. Gryffindor wins." Draco pulled up on his broom and held the snitch aloft in triumph.

* * *

It was still light when Draco awoke. He did not need anyone to tell him he was in the infirmary. All he could think of was that he did not die from his stupid mistake.

"He's awake, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione Granger said.

"No, I'm not," Draco answered. "I can't feel this bad and still be alive."

"You had a bad fall," Madam Pomfrey told him. "Luckily, someone cast a cushioning spell on the ground before you landed or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Draco tried to move and groaned at the effort. Madam Pomfrey had apparently waited for him to wake up because the next thing he knew she was forcing some vile concoction down his throat and demanding that he swallow. With an effort, he did as he was told. Despite the bad taste left in his mouth, the potion did make him feel better. In a thrice, he was able to sit up with no problem. As he did so, he looked over at Hermione.

"You okay?"

She nodded. "Madam Pomfrey told me that I was struck by a jinxed bludger."

"Twice. You were already down and out when it came around for a third try. Fred tackled it."

"Draco?" Hermione, surprised and relieved at her close call, had to ask her own question. "Were you pushed, again?"

"No." He cast a quick glance at Madam Pomfrey. She didn't say anything to him but her look said it all. Hermione didn't know. Draco had to smile. He was to be the one to tell her. He turned back. "My broom was jinxed . . . I guess. The first time I stopped, it failed. That's why I fell."

"Broom?"

"Yeah. When Madam Hooch permitted the team to replace you," he grinned broadly, "they picked me."

Hermione's reaction was fun to watch. As much fun was the disbelief in her voice when she had to ask why they picked him. Madam Pomfrey interrupted to explain that, after the incidents of last year, Potter and Longbottom had instructions from their parents to leave at once should anything occur. And, as Draco proved, the instructions were justified. Otherwise, Potter would be in that bed instead of Draco.

Hermione nodded in understanding, then she frowned. "We lost the match, then?"

* * *

It was after dinner when the guests arrived. It was almost a replay of the end of last year except the Quidditch team was focused on the both of them from the very start. For Draco, it was an uncomfortable feeling. He couldn't remember a time when he felt that he was part of a group, at least no time when it was a good thing.

"And why did you keep flying around like that?" Oliver Wood finally asked.

Draco opted for a half truth. "Did you see what happened when I stopped?"

Surprise was everyone's face. Fred and George managed to grin. It was George, at least Draco was fairly sure it was George, who asked, "How did you know the broom was jinxed?"

Draco waved the question away. "You should ask, 'How did I know HOW the broom was jinxed?' I knew right off something was wrong. And the broom I was given would have been the best choice if whoever wanted to cause more trouble. I guessed that particular spell as I flew out onto the pitch. The Keeper and the Seeker are the only players expected to hover. And there was nothing else wrong with the broom."

"Lucky guess if you ask me," Fred muttered loudly to George. He turned to Draco and asked in a confused tone, "Then why did you stop in midair after you caught the snitch?"

"He held it up so proudly," George said with mock awe, "as he plummeted downward."

After everyone had left, and Draco's face had returned to a normal colour, Hermione told him, "that's what I like about you, Draco. Whenever I have a bad day, you always make me feel better by having a worse one."

"Hermione, I want you to know. I think I know who's responsible."

Madam Pomfrey came into the infirmary with someone in tow. It was the Slytherin Seeker, Theodore Nott. "I can't prove anything, Malfoy. But I think you're right."

Draco's eyes flared briefly. "You had nothing to do with it?"

"Nothing. I had no idea until I saw Granger fall off her broom."

Hermione's tone was one of anger and her look called Nott a liar. "Then who did this to me? And to Draco?"

Nott seemed surprised by the question. "Father, of course. After making sure that Mother agreed. My father believes that winning is everything. He believes that cheating can be obvious as long as you can't prove who is actually doing it."

"Then why did you come here?"

Nott smiled at Hermione. "Because it was clear to me that your boyfriend knew what was going on. Although he showed a near fatal lack of attention at the end of the match. If I were in his position, I would have landed first before striking a triumphal pose. As it is, I have owled my parents to inform them that I will resign the team should another incident occur."

"How generous of you."

Nott smirked. "Generosity has nothing to do with it. I think it is more in the line of self preservation." He cast a glance at Draco. "You were planning revenge, weren't you?"

Draco nodded. "May I ask, Theo, how did you . . . your father do it? Or is it a family secret?"

Nott shrugged. "He probably had the house elf do it. It is the easiest way and everything that happened is within its capabilities."

Hermione frowned and Draco knew why. "What is a house elf?"

"Muggles," Nott laughed, but stopped immediately when Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat.

Draco decided to answer. Now that he knew what they were called. He looked at Nott the entire time without emotion. "House elves are servants, Hermione. They're small, intelligent, maybe two feet tall and ugly as sin. And they're owned."

"Owned?" Her anger was back as she turned to Nott. "You OWN a house elf?"

"You'd be surprised, Granger. Do you know what the biggest insult is to a house elf? Freeing it. They enjoy being owned." He shrugged as though to say he didn't believe it at first, either. He added with authority, "and they will do ANYTHING they're told to. Even lie about what they did."

"How useful."

Madam Pomfrey put her hand on Nott's shoulder. "It is, Miss Granger, if you don't care what you do. And if I were you, I would dwell on what he has told you. The Minister will be informed of our suspicions but Theodore Nott was correct when he said there was nothing we could prove. You should also know that it was his suggestion that he inform the two of you." She looked specifically at Draco. "And as long as nothing else happens, I expect this to be the end of the matter."

Draco smiled at Hermione after Nott left. "Did you know? His mother used to be engaged to my father. I know she hates me because of that."

Hermione frowned. "But she couldn't know you would take my place. I think he was telling the truth about why all of this happened."

"No," Draco said, his smile failing. "I think he believes that is the reason." He was keenly aware that he had the attention of both Hermione and Madam Pomfrey. "I may be paranoid . . ."

"There's no maybe about that," Hermione interjected.

Draco didn't even acknowledge the jest. " I think Potter was the intended target. He was the most likely to take your place. And I think he knew it."

"Clever boy," Madam Pomfrey commented. "Have you figured out why?"

"Not why," Draco said thoughtfully. "But, Potter and Longbottom, either one of them should have taken over as seeker instead of me." He saw the question on Hermione's face and answered it. "Last year, after I fell, everyone thought I was asleep. Sirius Black was telling Potter that he and Longbottom were always in danger." Something else came into Draco's mind. An idea who in particular the Heir of Slytherin might be. And that suspect had just left the infirmary.


	8. The Second Attack

A/N: Just heard the news about Dumbledore. I'm sure Harry was not thinking along those lines when, in book seven, he wished they had a closer relationship, although I expect to hear quite a few jokes along those lines.

Young Prewitt had asked s good question. Why does Draco think he knows who the heir is? I think the reason is obvious. Not because he does know, but because his ego demands that he blame someone, so why not someone you don't like. In Canon, Harry automatically assumed the same thing about Draco. I think it's one of those things twelve year old boys do. Accuse first then find out the truth. (Actually, that sounds like quite a few adults I know.)

And another comment for Mandraco. You suggested the word wane should have been wan. For some reason, I never thought of using that word. ( I didn't know it was a word, to be honest. I had to look it up.) And for the sake of the readers I should explain. After Harry made a comment to Hermione, Draco walked up. "She gave him a wane smile." Wane means fleeting, whereas wan means ashen, pallid. I was thinking of the type of smile where you're annoyed and a friend walks up, you smile but your heart isn't in it. A wane smile. A wan smile would be if Hermione was seriously hurt by the remark. Anyway, the point of this whole stupid paragraph is that while using wane may be poor English, it was the right word. (I really do have too much time on my hands.)

My thanks also to Raziel Tepes and Artemis-Chan for their reviews, as well as Shulblaka Saphira, whose question should be answered in this chapter.

**Chapter 8: The Second Attack**

Draco was forced awake by Hermione hitting his arm. He looked at her, then turned to the doorway where the commotion was coming from. At once a group of people came in. Madam Pomfrey, Albus Dumbledore, Professor Sprout. Argus Filch came in with Hagrid. They were carrying something. Draco corrected himself. Someone.

"Mum?" Draco called out.

Madam Pomfrey turned around. Her concerned look became one of sadness. She told him to wait as she pulled a screen in front of the bed they had placed the person on. Draco looked at Hermione. She was thinking the same thing. Whoever was carried in was stiff. Stiffer than they normally should be.

"Justin?" Hermione said suddenly, and Draco remembered. Justin Finch-Fletchley had promised to return after dinner but had never come by. If it was another attack . . .

Albus Dumbledore appeared from behind the screen, saw the two watching, and walked over to them. "I suppose it is appropriate that the two of you should be the first to know."

"It was Justin?" Hermione asked fearfully. Dumbledore nodded. The next question did not have to be asked.

"From all appearances, he had run into a suit of armor when it happened. I would guess he had heard his attacker and was trying to flee. I'm afraid I do not know how long he had been there before he was found but Madam Pomfrey did say he planned on returning here."

"He's petrified?" Draco had to ask, even though he already knew the answer.

Dumbledore gave him a kindly smile. "He will recover, in time. Professor Sprout told me she had you repotting mandrakes last week? It so happens that, once the mandrakes are mature, we can prepare the potion that will cure him. And Mrs. Norris."

"Do you know what attacked him?"

"I do not," the headmaster admitted. "I am examining all the possibilities, however, and I am optimistic." He smiled. "Do not worry on his behalf, Draco, Hermione. Justin is in good hands and in no danger. On the other hand, the two of you should try to get some sleep. It has been a most eventful day."

Draco nodded. He lay back down and tried to sleep, but to no avail. After everyone had dispersed, he risked getting out of bed. Walking over to the screen, he pushed it aside and looked at his friend.

Justin could have been a statue. But his body was contorted into an odd shape. After some thought, he understood. Justin had run into a suit of armor. If he were flipped over in his bed he would be in the perfect position. Kneeling over the body of armor and lifting himself up when it happened.

After a few more minutes, Draco put the screen back into place and returned to his bed. He slept in fits and starts for the rest of the night. Occasionally, he would glance at Hermione with a touch of anger. Although she was tossing in her sleep, at least she was sleeping.

* * *

Professor Snape was eyeing his favorite student carefully. Their twice weekly sessions had become a routine. First, they would test how well Draco was doing at occlumency. Then the professor would comment on where Draco could improve in his studies. At this point, tea was served with some sort of pastry. That was Draco's cue to decide what the night's lesson would be. And he would usually start by asking which one his mother or father would pick. More often than not, Professor Snape would have some anecdote about one of his parents and that particular subject. Statements such as Lucius would never admit he couldn't cast a particular charm, even if he never heard of the charm before. And there was the time in potions that Lily had brewed a sleeping potion so fine that the fumes put half the class to sleep before anyone realized what was happening.

And now Draco was sullen. Carefully, he probed the boy's mind. Sometimes, a fleeting thought would escape. The mental barrier was secure, however, which gave Snape cause for pride. It was hardly more than a year ago that he gave Draco his first lesson, and the boy was already at the stage where he could hold such a barrier up indefinitely. On the other hand, Draco had a strong incentive to learn. Any probe that made it past that barrier would cause him unbearable pain.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley is not dead, nor is he in danger of dying." The strength of the probe increased. The barrier was still holding. "If you want to miss him, go right ahead. But you have no cause for such mourning." A needle-thin force of mental will attempted to penetrate the barrier. It seemed to have some success when the professor had to step back. The barrier suddenly went from an analogy of a brick wall to one of a steel sphere. And Draco was aware of what was going on.

"Did you have to, Professor?"

"You know the answer to that, Draco. It was an excellent chance to test your abilities. Admittedly, you had a tutor, but you still did better than any student with twice the time to train."

"I wonder what my motivation is," came the sarcastic reply.

"Perhaps I should make some more tea. And perhaps you will tell me why you are so glum."

Draco admitted that he knew Justin would be fine, and that he believed it, but there was the nagging thought. The monster or whatever had struck again without warning. And the victim had been a close friend who was on his way to visit. When Mrs. Norris was petrified, he was the first to come on the scene. The thought occurred to Draco that perhaps he had been the intended target and the others had the misfortune of getting in the way.

"Tea. Drink," Snape said forcefully. "And before I debunk your theory, do you have any suspects who might be behind all of this."

Draco took a sip of the tea. "The Notts. Mrs. Nott hates me because my father spurned her. I know that. And Theodore Nott even admitted that his parents were probably behind the accidents on the pitch."

Snape managed a smile. "If they are behind this plot then you are completely safe. They must have spent as much time planning all of this as their son spent practicing Quidditch. Seriously, they may have been involved in what happened during the match, but not for what happened to your friend. That was an entirely different order of magic. The Notts, even at their best, could never have managed it."

"Then who?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

Draco's answer was hushed. "Voldemort."

"He has friends, as you have seen. But he is also weak. That does not explain why this attack occurred only a week after the last one. But I suspect we should not have to worry for some time before the next attack. HE will be cautious now that we have our guard up."

A thought was stirring in Draco's head. "Time to prepare." He paused. "Professor, do you have any idea what we should prepare against? The Headmaster . . ."

"Is working on that as we speak," Snape answered. "I respect his abilities and I will let him worry about how best to solve the problem. As should you."

Draco nodded, but the thought was becoming solid. If he continued to pursue the matter, he would be making himself a target. At least, that was what Professor Snape was implying. And if he did make himself a target? How would he defend himself?

"Draco?" Snape was eyeing him carefully. "Please tell me you are not planning to do anything."

"I was thinking about Moaning Myrtle. Asking her if she'd seen anything the night Filch's cat was attacked. If I could get her to talk to me."

"I'll mention it to Dumbledore. You have no need to involve yourself, now, in anything other than your studies."

Draco frowned. "Fine. What do you want to teach me, today?"

Severus Snape had to smile at the reply. "I have heard that you have difficulty turning your broom sharply when you fly. It is still light enough. I could teach you what little I know on that subject."

Minutes later, a cheerful Gryffindor was following the Head of Slytherin house to the Quidditch pitch.

* * *

Professor Pettigrew was trying to teach the class about the various dangerous animals that existed in the wizarding world. Most of the students kept close attention but one blond boy was continually daydreaming, despite several comments to pay attention. As the class came to a close, he had to insist that Draco Malfoy remain after.

"And where would you find Grindylows?"

Draco didn't even try to answer. It seemed that every word was a distraction to him. Pettigrew wasn't the first teacher to comment. Then the lecture began. True it has only been a week or so, but he shouldn't be worrying himself. Draco frowned as the Professor said something different.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

Pettigrew seemed overly patient. "I was wondering if you had heard the voices recently. You heard them before Mrs. Norris was attacked."

"I was in the infirmary, Sir. That may have been the reason."

"Ah, so the voices accompany the attacks? Draco, perhaps it would be best if you were to take some time off from school. You're rather fond of Hagrid. Why don't you . . . be his helper for the next week? It might help you relax." Pettigrew was smiling. "I'll suggest it to Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. I know Albus would have no objections."

"If I may, Sir, I need to go to my next class."

Pettigrew looked up and around. "Dear me, I forgot to keep someone here to escort you. Inconvenient rule. Let me escort you to the charms classroom."

Pettigrew put a friendly hand on Draco's shoulder and led him into the hallway. Despite a number of students passing each way, the professor made no effort to leave him off. Instead, he made small talk. He asked Draco how things were going with his girlfriend. Draco assured him that Hermione was only a friend, that there wasn't anything special about her. A smile was the reply, followed by a comment that he might still be too young. This led to another question. What was he learning from Professor Snape?

Draco was already wary. Pettigrew seemed to have a purpose behind his questions but he couldn't tell what it was, and the professor wouldn't tell him if he asked. Draco debated on how to answer and decided on the truth. "Well, the last time, he tutored me on how to turn sharply on a broom without having to slow down much."

"Good. Healthy exercise is always a release. And, by the way you cheered up, I think I might be correct in my recommendation." At Draco's frown, Pettigrew added, "I'm trying to do what I think is right for you, even if you disagree. If I am out of line, I know Minerva will not hesitate to tell me." He patted Draco's shoulder. "And I don't wish to offend you but I do consider her opinion to be more reliable than yours."

With a cheerful smile, Pettigrew opened the door to the Charms classroom and ushered Draco inside. He politely apologized to Professor Flitwick for making one of his students late and, the smile never leaving his lips, closed the door behind him as he returned to his own classroom.

Draco sat down next to Hermione. He tried to pay attention but his mind kept wandering back to what Pettigrew had told him. Maybe all of this had made him a bit barmy. Draco had plenty of bad things happen to him. Growing up, he had seen bad things happen to other people as well. But this was the first time that he could remember something bad happening to a friend.

"I'm not used to it," he said to himself.

"Mister Malfoy?" Flitwick asked.

Potter, seated behind him, laughed. "He''s only talking to himself, Professor. I don't think he could explain it."

Longbottom snorted, "unless he's talking to one of his voices."

Flitwick was angry. "POTTER, LONGBOTTOM, I'LL NOT HAVE ANOTHER WORD OUT OF EITHER OF YOU." In a lower, but still angry tone, he added, "Mister Malfoy, I would like to see you after class."

* * *

Hermione was adamant. "Draco, you have to stop it. Justin won't be healed any faster. It's becoming an obsession."

"I can't help it. I can't get rid of the feeling that I'm missing something, that once I figure it out everything will fall into place."

They turned up the staircase to the seventh floor and the portrait as Hermione explained, "That IS the point. It's just a feeling. Twice today, teachers stopped you to talk about it."

"Pettigrew is going to talk to McGonagall. He wants me to spend the next week as Hagrid's assistant."

Hermione smiled. "A little hard work never hurt anyone."

"He wanted to know if I'm still hearing voices. I told him no."

"Are you still hearing voices?"

Draco tried to frown but couldn't after seeing the look Hermione was giving him. "No, but . . ." Draco paused. "It happened again. It may make me sound barmy, 'mione, but I can't help thinking that Pettigrew expected me to hear that voice when Justin was attacked. What if . . . I'm hearing the attacker?"

"But you didn't hear any voices the night Justin was attacked."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "And no one was attacked the first time I heard that voice." He looked over at his friend. "Hermione?"

"What? Oh. Now you have me doing it. For a moment there, I thought I might . . ." She laughed nervously. "Why don't we forget about it for the rest of the day at least?" She looked at the portrait of the Pink Lady and gave the password. The painting swung open to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor.

* * *

Things seemed to go from bad to worse. Draco tried to pay attention in class, and was fairly successful, but every lapse into 'daydreaming' was weighing heavily against him. In the end, the call came not to see Professor McGonagall but Madam Pomfrey. Hermione offered to be late to practice in order to walk him to the infirmary.

Along the way, Hermione kept trying to cheer Draco but telling it was wonderful that he would be free of classes for a while. She tried to assure him he could still practice with the team whenever he wanted since it wouldn't be schoolwork. Draco tried to look sincere when he thanked her but he doubted he was successful.

And there he stood. In the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey looked at him as though examining him. "You've been causing problems again. Would you care to explain why?"

"Reason's in that bed over there. He's me friend. Woun't be right jus' to let it go."

"And you're going to solve the problem all by yourself? There are others, more qualified than a second year, who are investigating this matter. Your task at this school is to get an education. You seem to have become sidetracked. It has been strongly suggested that you should be given a short holiday."

"Pettigrew told me."

"PROFESSOR Pettigrew told you," she corrected. "He is the most vocal, and the most concerned. He was the first one to witness what he calls your 'episodes'." She ordered Draco to sit, then took a chair and sat next to him. "I need to ask if you have had any more of these episodes."

Draco shook his head.

"Very well. As your legal guardian, I am ordering you not to pursue the matter of the Heir of Slytherin. That will be handled by the Headmaster and his staff. If I hear even one word about it, you will have your little vacation with Rubeus Hagrid. The same applies to any further complaints that you are failing to pay attention in class or that you homework is late or, worse, indecipherable." When Draco looked up, Madam Pomfrey was frowning, "You even managed to gain a comment from Professor Binns. And that is not easy to do."

"I'll try," Draco said in a low voice.

To make matters worse, Madam Pomfrey made it a point to talk to Hermione Granger about what she said. Hermione agreed to act as Draco's watchdog. That matter settled, Draco was set free to return to Gryffindor. As she was late already, Draco agreed to join her at practice. They might even let him participate.

When they reached the pitch, Draco noticed Potter and Longbottom and opted instead to sit in the stands and watch. He wasn't in the mood to listen to any snide comments on his abilities. And so he watched. Hermione was better by far on a broom than she was last year. He knew it was because she finally understood that you couldn't learn everything by reading about it. It wasn't enough to know how to fly a broom, you had to do it. And knowing how did not mean you could do it. Such as twisting your body on a broom in a sharp turn. Practice taught you how to compensate for a strong wind. Reading only said you had to.

A red-haired girl sat next to Draco. It was Ginny Weasley. She seemed a bit distant and dreamy eyed. "I like to watch them fly," she said mechanically.

"Yeah, it's fun," Draco answered without enthusiasm. Potter was making a suggestion to Hermione about her flying. Even at this distance, it was clear to Draco that Hermione was doing her best not to make a comment of her own.

"I'm supposed to visit a friend," Ginny said in the same tone. It struck Draco funny, as though she had rehearsed her lines. "I thought you might like to join me."

"Who's your friend?"

"Her name's Myrtle."

Draco stared. Ginny Weasley was giving him a smile. Draco returned it. He understood. Her lines were rehearsed. She had decided to help him and was nervous as to how he would react. Add to that, Justin helped him and was now in the infirmary. The same thing could happen to her. Another reason to be nervous.

"I'd love to go with you. If you don't think Myrtle will mind."

For her reply, Ginny stood up and began walking away. Draco followed her. As they passed the changing room, Ginny did something unexpected. She turned toward the door, ushering Draco inside when she opened it.

"What's going on?" Draco asked.

"Myrtle can wait," Ginny said. "I wanted to show you something important."

Draco was confused by the change in attitude. Ginny was still smiling dreamily at him. As he watched, she began to unbutton her robes. After she undid the second button, she added that it might even be more fun than visiting some old ghost. Then she did something truly unusual. Grabbing either side of her robe, she pulled slowly until the third button popped off on its own. That was when he realized that she had nothing on underneath.

As she forced the fourth button to pop, Draco rushed forward to stop her. He grabbed her hands and forced them together. To his surprise, Ginny cooperated completely. Her smile was gone. Instead, she was staring at him in horror. She looked down at her robes. Suddenly she was screaming as she broke away from him.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LET GO OF ME!"

As Ginny broke free and tried to get the door open, a sound was heard on the other side of the room, where another door led in from the pitch.

"WHAT WERE YOU DOING?" Fred asked loudly. He was standing there with his brother and Oliver Wood. Hermione was just behind them with the other members of the team, all trying to see what was happening. As everyone froze, Ginny opened the door, tears in her eyes. She glanced once at Draco, looked at her brothers, then fled back to the castle clutching her robes together.

Fred had not even finished calling Draco a bastard before he was hitting him. George tried to hit him all the harder for not being first. He was backed against the wall and being struck repeatedly about the head and the body. He vaguely heard Hermione yelling for them to stop, and Potter cheering them on. Other voices rose up in an incoherent roar. A whistle blew, and Draco was suddenly let go. He used the free time to collapse onto the ground.

* * *

The first thing Draco was told was to keep his mouth shut. That was from Madam Hooch. She ordered everyone else to return to their house until Professor McGonagall came to talk to them. She then marched Draco to the infirmary so that his injuries could be taken care of. Nothing was said during the entire trip. Draco was left waiting outside the infirmary while Madam Pomfrey was told everything that Madam Hooch knew. The Flying Professor then excused herself to take care of informing the Head of House.

Madam Pomfrey led Draco to a room nearby. She curtly informed him that Ginny Weasley was currently being taken care of. His injuries were not life threatening and he would have to wait. And he did, for most of an hour.

While he waited, he examined the room. It had a bed, table and chairs, and a bookcase. One door led to a closet. A second room led to a small bathroom. The third door, the one to the hallway, would not open regardless of how hard he tried. He spent most of the time looking out the window at the forest.

When she returned, the first thing Madam Pomfrey told him was to say nothing. Draco's instinct was to protest, to say he didn't do anything wrong. Madam Pomfrey glared at him.

"I'm telling you, you stupid boy, for your own protection. Don't even tell me. I have a fairly good idea what happened but I wanted to find out from Professor McGonagall exactly what she has been told before I talked to you."

"But . . ."

"DRACO. Be Quiet. I mean this. Do not say anything to me, now. Or to anyone else."

Draco noticed it. Madam Pomfrey was frightened of something.

"Can I ask a question?"

"The Weasley twins said they walked in on you while you were forcing yourself on their sister. Most of the Quidditch team confirmed what they said."

"Most?"

"The ones who didn't were the last ones to enter. They saw Ginny Weasley running away while Fred and George were assaulting you."

Draco started to protest, but a warning glare stopped him. He shrugged his shoulders. "What do I do?"

"Until the matter is resolved, you will spend your time here. There is a ward on the door. No one can enter without my permission. And no one can leave unless I specifically walk them out."

Draco nodded. He was a prisoner, for lack of a better word. Madam Pomfrey had him sit in one of the chairs while she examined him. She gave him a potion to take care of the swelling. Then she ordered him to give her his wand. Putting it inside her robe, she left, telling him she would check on him in the morning.


	9. The Dark Side of the Moon

A/N: I hate work. I hate my job. On Tuesday, we received word to prepare for a big meeting. On Wednesday, we received word that the big meeting was cancelled. On Thursday, we received word that none of the preparations for the meeting had been completed and the higher-ups were furious. On Friday, half the staff decided to hell with all this and took the day off. Because I showed up, I also got to work on Saturday. There never was a meeting. When Monday is your best day, you know it wasn't a good week.

On a brighter note, thank you to everyone who has been reading this story. The reviews, in particular, have been most welcome. I came home from work with the urge to kill and I read them. They calmed me down considerably. Now I only want to inflict grievous bodily harm. And I apologize. I'm talking about work again.

On a serious note, I found myself explaining to a friend why Justin was attacked. In the original story, Colin Creevey was attacked when he was on his way to the infirmary to see his "good friend", Harry Potter. (Had Harry known this was the reason, he probably would not have been as upset as he was about the attack.) Since, in this story, Justin was the one on the way to the infirmary, he was the one who was attacked.

And an apology to Mandraco. I was confronted with the American Heritage Dictionary. While wane can be used as a verb or a noun, it is never used as an adverb or adjective. When I pointed out that the word wan did not fit exactly what I wanted to say, my friend pointed out that a modified form of the word, i.e. wanly, would do the trick. She also added that the Humpty Dumpty rule of linguistics only works for Humpty Dumpty. It wouldn't apply to me even if I were president.

I'm done rambling. You can read the story now.

**Chapter Nine: The Dark Side of the Moon**

It was afternoon the next day that Draco finally had his expected guest. Madam Pomfrey walked in with Professor Dumbledore. She then left them alone.

"Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said pleasantly as he sat down at the table with the boy. "You seem to have a knack for finding trouble."

"How much?" Draco asked, staring at the table and not daring to look up.

"I have spoken to Ginny Weasley's parents about the matter. They are very much inclined to accept their children's version of what happened. I would also be inclined to do so except that what you are being accused of is so much out of character for you. On the other hand, there is also the fact that you have been hearing voices and seeing things. Add to this your recent inability to concentrate on everyday matters." He put a fatherly hand on Draco's shoulder. "I need to ask: Do you remember clearly everything that happened yesterday?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Could you tell me, in your own words, exactly what happened?"

Draco paused. Madam Pomfrey had told him not to say anything. Surely that did not include the Headmaster. But . . . she also told him that no one could enter his room without her permission.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't think I should say anything until I know exactly what I'm being accused of."

As he said those words, Draco understood. Anything he said could be repeated. Mick had explained it to him. Coppers are always looking to blame you for something. You say the wrong thing and they'll blame you for that. Don't matter what you did.

Draco looked up. Dumbledore was eyeing him carefully. There was a hint of sadness as the wizard tried to smile.

"You do know that you will have to stay here until the matter is settled. If you don't cooperate, we could be talking about weeks."

Draco nodded his head. He had already figured out that part. But Dumbledore was not finished with him yet. It was no surprise when he asked about the voices, or about the visions. He sighed at the lack of response and stood up. Walking to the door, he knocked twice. Madam Pomfrey opened the door from her end. Curiously, she gave Draco a smile. He could only think that he understood her correctly about not saying anything.

He went back to doing nothing after that. Madam Pomfrey saw that he had his school books to read in case he became too bored. And looking out the window didn't do much. It looked away from the school proper and from the lake. The trees that he could see never did anything worth noting.

As it was, he never became too bored. The morning two days after the meeting, he heard a popping noise. He turned and saw Dobby. "'ello, frien'. Where you been off to?"

The house elf looked down at the floor. "Dobby wants to tell Draco Malfoy he is sorry."

Concern. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing," Dobby cried, "It is what Dobby must do."

"Ain't gonna hurt, is it?"

The elf became wide-eyed. "Never. Mistress has agreed never to hurt Draco Malfoy."

Draco studied his odd friend. The elf always had a menial attitude. He was owned by the Notts, that was now known. But he liked Draco for some reason, something to do with his parents. But why would he make it a point to apologize for something he had to do? Why the need for forgiveness when he only had to not say anything. Draco shrugged. "If it ain't gonna hurt, I ain't worried. But . . . can you help me out if I'm in a fix?"

Draco had the idea that, with the elf's help, he could prove what really happened. That done, he could even find out why. Dobby, on the other hand, understood the question in a different way. He smiled broadly while saying he could do that. Then he vanished, leaving a dumbfounded Draco wondering what had happened. Not knowing what else to do, he finished breakfast.

An hour later the door opened. Madam Pomfrey told him to come with her. She was not smiling. She walked him briskly down the hallway muttering under her breath but all Draco could catch were the words, "not fair." He knew he would find out too soon what she meant by that. They stopped before the gargoyle that led to the Headmaster's office and Madam Pomfrey said, "Sherbet Lemon". After the gargoyle told them they could enter, Draco was led to the headmaster's office.

"And here comes the little miscreant."

Draco recognized the man. It was Theodore Nott's father, standing next to Dumbledore. Also there was a tall, black man, bald with a gold earring in one ear. When Draco saw that, he put his hand to his ear to touch his own earing. A movement caught his attention and he noticed one more individual in the room. It was Dobby. Draco couldn't help but stare.

"And what is your problem?" Nott demanded when he saw who Draco was looking at.

"Never saw one before. Is that a house elf?"

"How clever of you to guess." He turned to Dumbledore. "Why don't we let Shacklebolt take care of the boy and then we can be done with the matter."

"If the governors insist, I have no choice," Dumbledore admitted.

"We do. There is no need for any charades at justice. The complaints against the boy are sufficient. Or do you contest any of the statements I've shown you?"

Dumbledore shook his head and turned to Draco. "Mister Malfoy, I must inform you that you have been expelled from Hogwarts. Under these circumstances, you are forbidden to perform magic for any reason, nor will you be permitted to do so unless permission is given by the Wizards' Council. In view of the current situation, that is highly unlikely. Kingsley Shacklebolt will be your escort back to London. Arrangements have been made, so I've been informed, to turn you over to the muggle authorities to see about your care and well being."

Draco was gobsmacked. Expelled?

"But . . ."

His remarks ended there. He could not think of a single thing to say. He couldn't think of anything. Dumbledore asked about his wand. He looked at Madam Pomfrey. He suggested she could keep it as a souvenir. Dumbledore told him no, and took the wand when Madam Pomfrey handed it over. The Headmaster walked over to his desk and put it in a drawer.

Draco looked up once more at the woman next to him.

"I guess you ain't me Mum no more."

She shook her head.

It was over. The black man, Kingsley Shacklebolt, walked over to him and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. In this manner, Draco was escorted from the Headmaster's office. They walked down the empty corridors, passing the occasional classroom, voices inside dispensing the day's lessons. Thus, no one saw him when he finally walked out of the school and into the waiting coach. Draco rode in silence, not thinking, not caring. His entire world had fallen apart.

A touch. Not a physical touch, but a mental one. Without thinking, Draco hardened his shields as best he could as he lifted his head to glare at the man sitting across from him. Shacklebolt smiled and nodded his head. And that was it. Draco knew the man would not try to read his mind again.

And that started Draco thinking. He felt no pain. Only the feeling of someone else's thoughts. It was a small victory, he thought, that he could maintain his mental shield now without even thinking about it. Not that he would ever need to, anymore. Unless muggles suddenly learned mind reading.

The train ride to London was equally thrilling. Most of the time was spent staring out the window. About midway through the journey, Shacklebolt had to point out that there was food, and Draco ate without even tasting anything. He never even had the chance to say goodbye to anyone.

The train stopped and he was escorted through the secret barrier into King's Cross Station. He was marched to the main entrance. And made to stop. There was a familiar car parked in the restricted area and someone was getting out. The man strode to where they were standing and held out his hand. "Andrew Givens."

Shacklebolt shook his hand and introduced himself as well. He handed Givens some official looking papers and informed him that Draco was now in his charge. Givens nodded and looked at the boy.

"Draco, please hold out your hands." He was taking a pair of cuffs from his pocket.

"Is that necessary?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Under the circumstances, yes," Givens told him as the cuffs were placed on Draco's wrists. "It is standard procedure in these cases."

Draco was escorted to the waiting car and helped into the back seat. His seat belt was put on for him and the door closed. Givens climbed into the driver's seat and drove away without formality.

"Anything to say, Draco?"

"What'd I do? Ain't like I'm a yardie or somethin'."

"As to the particulars, I don't know. All I do know is that you were expelled from your school and placed into custody. And, because of our relationship, it is my duty to deliver you to your new school."

"In handcuffs?"

Givens didn't bother to answer. He didn't have too. Draco knew all too well where he was going. And he wasn't being given any chance to skive off. Inspector Givens wasn't here as a friend, but as his parole officer. And not having a school to go to meant only one thing: Saint Brutus.

Mick did three years there, Draco reminded himself. He could handle himself as well. He heard the rumours. He should know what to expect. He tried to steel himself for whatever was to come, but all too quickly they arrived at their destination. He stared out the window at the tall brownstone walls topped with barbed wire.

As they approached the turn in, Draco sighed. "I guess I bodged it all."

"An accurate description," Givens acknowledged. He rolled the window to talk to the armed guard. He handed over some papers and the guard looked them over briefly. He gave directions on where to go, then motioned to the controller in the booth. The rolling gate slid back on its groove, and Givens drove into the compound of what was euphemistically called Saint Brutus Academy. Draco glanced over to the playing field where a group of students, all wearing the standard school uniform of Khaki shirt and trousers, were marching in step while being watched by the Physical Education Professor and his four armed assistants. They drove past the main building to the smaller adjunct building. Two armed men came out to greet Givens. One of them took the key for the cuffs and the documents Givens had been given earlier, while the other opened the car door for Draco.

"Hands up and behind your head." It was an order. The man looked like he hoped Draco would not obey. Draco, without any sense of bravery, complied with the order. The seat belt was undone, and Draco was grabbed from the car. The only reason he didn't fall over was the strong grip the man had on him. Even when he found his feet the man never loosened it. Without ceremony he was pulled along into the building. He never had a chance to say another word to Inspector Givens.

A man in a white coat was glaring at him from behind a solid steel desk. A doctor. The guard removed the handcuffs, telling Draco to keep his hands behind his head. The doctor nodded and the guard stepped back to stand by the door. The second guard handed the documents to the doctor then joined his partner. Both kept their eyes on Draco.

The doctor was reading the papers. He arched an eyebrow at one point and eyed Draco with amusement. When he finished, he ordered Draco to remove his clothes and place them in the basket. Draco followed the doctor's gaze and saw the only furniture in the room outside of the desk. It was a table. On the table was a metal basket.

Two minutes later, everything Draco had was in the basket and he was standing there with his hands again behind his head. He was ordered to put his hands to his sides. One of the guards took an electric trimmer off the table and gave Draco a quick but effective haircut. There was nothing but stubble left on his head. The doctor, satisfied, ordered him to follow and walked into the next room, an examination room. The guards followed.

The physical examination was thorough. Every part of Draco's body was poked and prodded. When the doctor was done, the interview began. The first question was unexpected. The doctor wanted to know for how long he had been hearing 'voices'. One of the guards snickered. The doctor gave him a polite smile to show he also found it entertaining.

"What voices?"

"Well," the doctor said in a mock friendly fashion, "one of the reports says that you ran out of the dining hall at your former school yelling, 'I want blood'. You claimed later that you were repeating what the voices had told you." He briefly held the paper up so that Draco could see it.

Draco palled. He wasn't here for a physical exam, only. They thought he was radio rental, that is, completely mental. He didn't want to think what that meant they would do.

"Maybe you should lock me up an' be done with it," he suggested.

"We are here to help you, um," he glanced at the papers, "Draco. If you cooperate, we'll know how to do that. It will be easier for both of us. Now, when did you first hear the voices?"

"Doc," Draco said with as much conviction as he could muster, "It ain't gonna be easy."

"We'll try it this way, then," the doctor said. "We'll give you some time to adjust to your situation before we talk again about these episodes of yours." He nodded to the guards who stepped forward. They each grabbed an arm and marched Draco out of the examination room back into the room they first entered. They went through another doorway which led to a long corridor. Metal doors lined either side after the first few feet, a half dozen on each side. One was picked, seemingly at random and Draco was thrust inside. The heavy door was bolted and locked behind him.

"My clothes," Draco shouted through the grating in the door. A grating of crisscrossed metal, about a foot square, was the only opening in the door. If he stood on his toes his could manage to look out. At the cell across from him.

"You'll get them," a guard said gruffly as they walked away, adding in a mocking tone, "eventually."

He was alone. In a cell that had only a bed and a toilet. The mattress could barely be called clean and the blanket was thin. Not enough to keep him warm in the cold cell. He wrapped himself in the blanket anyway and set down on the bed, staring at the floor. In the ensuing silence, he heard it. A low voice, crying over and over in a dull monotone. "I'll be good. I'll be good. I'll be good." As though repeating this phrase would somehow make things better.

At some point he fell asleep. He woke up to the sound of metal sliding and the smell of food. Jumping out of the bed he stepped up to the grate and looked out. A man, more of a boy in his late teens, stood up as the sliding metal sound stopped. From the sound he was pushing a cart.

"Excuse me," Draco asked hastily. "Is that breakfast?"

The man stopped in mild surprise. "Oh, you must be a new one."

"Came in last night."

"You're not on my list. I'll tell them in the kitchen. See if I can get you on for lunch." He walked away, leaving a surprised Draco standing there. Twice more, the sliding metal sound was heard. Then the man passed by again on his way out.

"Excuse me," Draco said again. "I need some clothes, too."

"Too bad. That's not my department. Tell one of the guards."

The man left. From the sounds he could hear, someone in one of the other cells had picked up a food tray and was eating, but that was all he could make out. No other sounds could be heard.

Draco didn't have any lunch, but in the evening a panel in the base of his door was slid back and a sandwich on a paper tray was slid in along with a cardboard box labeled as fruit drink. The man's voice said to leave the tray and empty carton by the slot if he wanted his next meal.

"That was fast," a voice said after the server left. "Made me wait two days for my first meal."

"Yeah, guess, I'm lucky," Draco called back. Half his sandwich was already eaten.

The other boy introduced himself as Benny. When Draco asked sarcastically, Benny assured him, in a similar tone, that he was in the hospital wing of the school. Benny was recovering from a broken arm and bruised ribs. Officially he had tripped and fallen. Unofficially, a guard had pushed him hard for moving too slowly. He wasn't deliberately pushed down the stairs. Not that it made much difference.

"That 'appen often?"

Another boy laughed. "It don't. They're careful not to have too many accidents. People might notice."

"That's Eric," Benny explained. "He attacked one of the guards for one reason or another. He never said why."

"Never been asked," Eric explained.

"Never?" Draco frowned at the idea that no one would bother to find out why something like that happened. It didn't help his mood when both the other boys laughed in response to his question. As the laughter died down, a small voice from another cell could be heard. The same voice from the night before. It was barely a whisper. "I'll be good. I'll be good."

"Who's that?" Draco asked as to the third boy. Eric said, "some kid who couldn't handle it. Nervous breakdown. Been here for months. Mumbles sometimes about being a good boy whenever there's a loud noise but that's about it. And what about you? Why are you here?"

"I 'ear voices," Draco replied. "They want me to kill."

"That's good advice," Eric told him. "You should start with the guards."

Draco learned from the others what he could expect. He would be kept in his cell for at least a couple more days, now more than a week. He would get his clothes then, not that it made much of a difference. If he was caught talking he could expect to lose a meal or two, but that was it. The fun would begin once his treatment began. And he would know he was in trouble if the doctor said he should be considered a friend. That usually meant the guards were going to be involved. In the meantime all he could do was wait. Which is what he did for the next four days.

When the cell door opened, the two guards were there. One guard handed him a pair of khaki trousers, a khaki vest and slippers. He was ordered to get dressed. Once that was done he was led from his cell back to the examination room. The doctor pointed him to a chair and told him to sit. The chair had restraints built in for the arms and legs. These were attached by the guards once he sat down. A belt, attached to the back of the chair was fastened around his waist. They weren't taking any chances, even with a frightened boy of twelve.

The doctor smiled, assuring him that the restraints were for his own protection. He then asked Draco if he felt like talking. He added that Draco should consider him as a friend. The boy's response was to say nothing. His fear was ebbing, slowly being replaced by anger and frustration.

The doctor shrugged his shoulders and said they would do things the hard way. He walked over to a medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle. Reaching into a tray, he grabbed a small packet. Tearing open the packet, he pulled out a disposable syringe. As he filled the syringe with the contents of the bottle, he smiled again.

"You'll only feel the slightest prick, it won't hurt at all. After a few minutes you may feel a little lightheaded but that's normal. And you will find yourself much more willing to answer my questions. The nice thing about this drug is that it works faster if you try to resist it. Getting all worked up gets it into your system that much faster." He picked up an alcohol swab and wiped Draco's arm. He then gave him the injection. Still smiling, he turned away and began to return the bottle to the cabinet. Suddenly, he stopped and said, "Damn."

"Sir?" one of the guards asked.

"Small error," the doctor said casually. "That idiot assistant put one of the psycotropics on the wrong shelf, again." But Draco wasn't watching him. He had seen a small figure hiding in the corner. Dobby? And he looked ashamed? Then the house elf faded from sight, as if he cast an invisibility spell on himself. The doctor was still talking. "Take him back to his room. I'll make sure he's monitored. It shouldn't harm him and we may learn something from his reaction."

"Should we locate Bessman?" the guard asked.

"Don't bother. I'll rail at him in the morning, and I'll cover his arse by claiming it's a selective treatment."

"He's won't be screaming like that other one?"

"Probably not. He'll hallucinate but it shouldn't be traumatic. More Peter Pan than Alice I should think. Best be safe though. Strap him down tight."

"Bloody hell," was the thought going through Draco's head. He knew he was set up at the school, but to have planned all this? And that was why Dobby apologized. He must have been the reason the doctor gave him the wrong drug.

The guards acted efficiently. As Draco's hands were released, they were forced into the sleeves of a straight jacket. His efforts to resist were pathetic but to his credit the guards had to strike him twice before he stopped resisting. By the time he had recovered from the blows he had been released from the chair and the straight jacket was on securely. A rubber grip was shoved in his mouth and bound in place. Two minuted later, he had been thrown on his bed and his legs were being secured to the frame by chains. Another set of chains, slipped under his arms were also secured. The guards closed and bolted the door behind them as they left.

"Dobby punished himself, Draco Malfoy," a low voice said.

Draco recognized the voice and tried to laugh. He would swear Dobby was waiting for an answer.

"Dobby can help now, but he must be careful."

There was the sound of fingers snapping. Draco was lying on top of the straight jacket and the chains, his head resting on the rubber grip. He was free to move. He sat up at once. And took a deep breath. The door he was facing seemed to jump away then bounce back. He snidely thought that he was about to find out what psychotropic meant.

"Thanks, Dobby," Draco said as he turned slowly to look at the house elf. Dobby's body, and the rest of the cell seemed to blur indistinctly while his face, which Draco was looking at, seemed to be overly well defined. "Um, Dobby, they gave me something to make me wonky. Can you get me out of here? Someplace safe?"

The house elf moaned. "Dobby can take you out of here, but he is forbidden to take you to a safe place."

"Someplace dangerous, then?" Draco asked. For some reason the idea seemed perfectly reasonable. Obligingly, Dobby's head grew to twice its normal size. Draco was impressed.

"Yes, Dobby could," the elf said nervously. "But Dobby can not put you in danger."

"Potential danger," Draco suggested, then repeated the word, potential, because it seemed so much fun to say. "Someone," Draco started to say. He understood briefly that he was feeling the beginning effects of a powerful drug. He shook his head but it seemed to make things worse. "Crazy, useless," he mumbled in his vain effort to shake the effects. He found himself staring at his hands wondering what they were made of. He didn't even pay attention to Dobby, except to note that he was excited when he said he could do that, that he knew someone crazy and useless he could take Draco too. Draco would be in danger but no immediate danger. "Would Draco Malfoy like Dobby to take him there, now?"

Wood, Draco thought, that's what I'm made of.

"Draco Malfoy must hurry. He must stand up and take Dobby's arm."

Hurry, Draco thought as he looked at his hand, marveling at how cleverly the joints had been carved. He stood up woodenly, on purpose, because that was how he should stand up. He took Dobby's hand and, as they took a curious step, thought to himself that Dobby should be blue. As the world seemed to twist in front of him, Dobby politely turned a light, sky blue colour. As the world reoriented itself, with the trees dancing merrily on the side of the road, Draco came to a decision about what was happening to him. It was a fantastic notion, and because of circumstances that fantasy now became reality for him. To accommodate his vision, Dobby was no longer walking next to him but was floating along side him in a blue dress, his wings beating steadily. His face had distorted into the face of a woman with red hair and green eyes. She looked almost familiar, and comforting. Draco happily walked along as he neared his destination.

Then he remembered. This was all wrong. He was made of wood. But Blue Dobby was there. Blue Dobby would help. And Blue Dobby said to him, "Dobby did it but Dobby must leave before he is seen. Go there."

Draco looked at his hands and smiled. Dobby did do it. Even as he watched, the hands of finely carved wood changed into flesh and blood. Draco could feel it. Not only his hands, but his entire body.

With more happiness than he thought it possible to feel, Draco ran to the house and knocked on the door. When the door opened, Draco shouted, "It's me, Papa. I've become a real boy." He then jumped into Gepetto's waiting arms. As he hugged the old man, he heard his father say, lovingly, "Sonambulous."


	10. Christmas

A/N: I apologize to everyone for ranting last week about how terrible everything was for me. I'm feeling better now, especially since I've been paid for all those hours I've worked. Money can't by happiness, but It still makes me feel better when I have some.

As far as the numerous request for whatever it was that Draco had, I've talked to my physician, Doctor Feelgood, and he says he has plenty of drugs available. Just make an appointment.

Raziel Tepes wanted to know who Gepetto is. In the story, Pinocchio, he is the woodcarver who makes the puppet. (I know that's not what you meant, but I couldn't help myself.)

And a note to Young Prewitt. The reason for Madam Pomfrey's advice will eventually be explained although it will not hurt the story to mention that her reasons were made moot by Mister Nott's actions as a member of the board of governors. And you're wrong about Hagrid.

Other Miscellaneous comments are as follows. I promise not to start any more arguments about grammar unless I first make sure I know what I'm talking about. Second, In regards to the title of the previous chapter, that is one of the CLASSIC albums of rock, and the closing lines of the title song seemed very appropriate to that chapter: Everything under the sun is in tune but the sun is eclipsed by the moon. Thirdly, Cockney Rhyming Slang can be difficult to follow as the more common usages are not fully used. For example, Radio Rental (for Mental) is also used as follows: He's gone radio. Lastly, thanks for reading and thanks for the reviews.

**Chapter 10: Christmas**

There was a chill in the air, so Draco snuggled further under the blankets. It was so comfortable and warm he never wanted to get up. A smile swam across his lips and he began to think how long it would take for him to get hungry enough to finally forsake the bed. He would have to get dressed and . . .

No, that was wrong. He was no longer at Hogwarts. He had been thrown out. They had taken him to . . .

Draco was frowning. Dobby had appeared after they had drugged him. He said something. A vague memory of trees formed in his head as though it was something he should remember. Sleep forgotten, he carefully lifted the blankets off his head so that he could look around. The first thing he noticed was that he was wearing a nightshirt, courtesy of his unknown benefactor.

He was in a bedroom. The bed made that obvious, with its side table and a chair in the corner away from the door. The walls were dark wood, with windows on three sides, one window was directly over the headboard. This is the one Draco decided to look out of. Ignoring the chill on his legs as he knelt on the bed, he looked out on a copse of snow-covered trees. The only thing he could tell from the view is that it was winter and he was on either the second or third floor of the house he was in.

As he stepped out of the bed and onto the cold floor, he looked around but did not see any other clothing. Nor did he see any closet or wardrobe. Since he couldn't do anything else, he walked to the door and opened it to reveal a small landing and a staircase leading down. He also felt the warmth that said there was a fire below. That was enough for Draco to continue.

It was as he neared the bottom of the stair he heard the voice.

"Sit by the fireplace. I'll bring the breakfast shortly."

It was a gruff voice coming from a doorway to his right, probably the kitchen. Draco turned to his left, down a short hallway which led to the living area. A large room with a fireplace along the far wall. Across from it was what Draco assumed was the front door. Bookcases filled with more than just books lined the other two walls and a large couch sat in the center of the room facing the fireplace. Two other chairs and small tables with oil lamps completed the decor. There were no paintings or pictures on any of the walls.

Draco chose the chair closest to the fire, stretching his feet out to catch most of the warmth. He felt almost comfortable, except that he did not know where he was or how long he had been there.

CLUNK.

A noise of metal on wood. It sounded again, coming from the kitchen. A few more and Draco was able to place the sound. His host was walking and one of his legs wasn't real. Prepared for that, Draco realized he wasn't prepared at all.

When the man appeared, his first reaction was to shrink back into his chair. He was an old man, by Draco's standards, with long grey hair. That part was normal enough. It looked as though some wild animal had bitten off part of the man's nose as it shredded the man's face, leaving scars everywhere. Not that he noticed it first. The first was that eye. It showed a vivid blue. And it looked directly at him even as the man's natural eye watched where he was walking.

Draco instinctively held his hand up to his own left eye, remembering how many times the previous year he had touched the patch that covered it as it regrew. For a moment, he forgot where he was and rubbed the eye to rid it of remembered pain.

"Here."

Draco took his eyes away from the man and looked at the plate that sat on the table next to him. Eggs and ham. A glass of juice sat next to it.

"T'anks."

The man gave a harsh laugh as Draco sat there. "Did I scare you off your food?"

"Um, no . . . but . . . where am I?"

"Here. Now eat that before it gets cold. Then I'll answer some of your questions and you'll answer all of mine." The man sat on the couch. "Eat."

Draco took the plate and sat it in his lap. With the fork he shoveled the food into his mouth, barely tasting it as he swallowed. Starting with the first bite he felt famished, as though he hadn't eaten properly in weeks. When he finished, he sat the empty plate next to the glass, which he had emptied also.

"What do you remember?" The man asked as soon as Draco was done.

"'bout what?"

"Coming here."

Draco admitted he couldn't remember anything about arriving at the house. He had been drugged. The man said that was good. About not remembering how he arrived. He was smiling at a private joke when Draco dared to ask who he was.

"You called me your father when you arrived."

"Oh."

"Then you started acting strange."

Draco shuddered. "How strange?"

"First thing I did was put you to sleep. That should have put a stop to everything. But right away you started moaning and thrashing about." He paused. "Do you want to know more? About the screaming and shouting as I forced every potion I could find down your throat so your body could get rid of that drug. Nasty bit of poison, whatever it was. Almost killed you anyway."

Draco wasn't sure the man was referring to himself or the drug. But a second question came to mind. "Do ya know who I am?"

"Who doesn't." His smile had an evil glint. "You're Draco Malfoy. Son of the only people who dared to challenge You-Know-Who, and who did it only because they thought they could do better than him. You're the future Dark Lord and Heir of Slytherin who has led three attacks at Hogwarts . . . "

"Two," Draco corrected.

"Three. Two days after you escaped from a muggle insane asylum, you returned to the school and attacked one of your housemates, a first year named Creevey."

"I did?" Draco's voice was dead. The thought that he might actually have done that.

"Of course not," the man sneered. "You were upstairs locked in that room screaming that death couldn't find you while you kept your eyes closed. But the Daily Prophet blamed you anyway." The sneer became a laugh. "You're very convenient."

Draco frowned.

"Congratulations, boy. You're now more popular than your parents ever were."

"An' what 'appens to me now?" There was a distinct touch of anger in his voice which the man found amusing. But the man's smile was sincere when he answered the question.

"I have no idea."

"You're not turnin' me in?"

The man shrugged. "I was planning on it. But you were such a pain I couldn't spare any time and risk losing you. Then the Prophet reported your latest assault by the time I knew you were secure. And that you weren't going to die on me. So I decided to keep my own council and wait until you could talk properly. Did you attack that girl?"

"NO. I was set up."

A smirk. "And who would do that?"

Draco paused. "The Notts, I guess. Don't know how they got the Weasley girl to go along wit' it. She din't seem the type." At the man's urging, Draco described the incident as best he could, including how Ginny Weasley seemed to change her personality as soon as he grabbed her hands.

"She isn't the type," the man said casually. "But there are ways to make people do what you want. And you described one of them very well. Do you know about the unforgivable curses?"

"Professor Black described 'em last year." Draco touched the scar on his forehead as a telling gesture.

"Then you know about the Imperious Curse?"

"They would do that?"

"That, and others." Then man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Now tell me everything that happened from that point until you arrived here."

Despite his misgivings, Draco did exactly that. Whoever this man was, he had rid Draco of the drug, and kept him safe, was keeping him safe. There was only one pause in the telling as the man produced some hot tea, but by the end he knew the entire tale, except for one house elf.

The man nodded when Draco finished. "And now you can tell me the part you left out."

Draco paused. The man had spotted the hole in his story about how he had escaped. "I promised."

"Wizard's oath?"

"Whot?"

The man laughed. "Do you mean to tell me you gave someone your word? And kept it?"

Draco was insulted. "I can be honest, you know."

The man nodded, still grinning. "Fine. Keep your secrets . . . unless you want my help."

"Help?" Draco was surprised. The man was willing to help him. "Why?"

"It's something to do. I've heard the stories about Hogwarts and from what you're telling me there's more to it than just a monster wandering around. And you," he pointed theatrically, "are clearly a problem for them. Why else go through all this trouble just to be rid of you. And it was too well thought out to be a simple spur of the moment idea. Someone wanted to get rid of you. And do it in such a way that it couldn't be linked to magic."

Draco nodded. No one would think that a wizard or witch had anything to do with a drug overdose. Things like that happened all the time in the muggle world. He decided to take a chance.

"'is name's Dobby."

"And where did you meet this Dobby fellow?"

"Um, you know that I been seeing things? And 'earing voices?" The man nodded. "I first saw him out the window on the 'ogwarts Express."

"At King's Cross?"

"No. While the train was movin'." Draco suddenly realized he didn't tell the most important fact about Dobby. "Um, 'e's an 'ouse elf." The man's natural eye seemed to grow as large as his magical one. "'e, uh, 'elps me whenever 'e can, long as it don't conflict with 'is orders."

"Why?"

"'e said 'e was friens wit' me parents."

Stunned was the best way to describe the man's reaction. He was staring at Draco with both eyes. "That is impossible. It has to be a lie."

"Then let me give you the toppin'. 'e's owned by the Notts."

Silence.

More silence.

Finally, a muttered word. "Incredible."

"You believe me?" Draco felt it necessary to ask.

The man didn't answer. He sat there thinking, his magical eye constantly on Draco. That gave the boy time to think. And every thought about what to do ended with a brick wall. He had no place to go. No one to turn to. Except for the man sitting in the room with him.

"Please. I need to know if you believe me. It's important."

"Why?" The question was almost casual.

"Because . . ." Draco's voice broke, ". . . I need . . . help."

"To do what?"

"Don't know." The silence lasted over a minute. "Was tryin' to find out who the Heir was. I was braggin' about 'ow close I was gettin'. All I needed was talk to Moaning Myrtle . . ."

The man interrupted. "You didn't mention Moaning Myrtle."

"She's a ghost. She haunts the girl's bathroom near where they found Filch's cat. I t'ought that whoever did it might have run in there. Ginny Weasley tol' me she was a friend of 'ers. Is that important?"

The man nodded his head thoughtfully. Then he smiled. "It could have been an excuse. Or it could have been the reason. But it gives us a place to start."

"You're gonna 'elp me?!"

"This is too rich a puzzle for me to pass up. And know this. I'm not helping you. You're helping me. Do you understand? When I tell you to do something, you do it. If I have time, I may even explain why."

Draco smirked. "So, what do I do?"

"Ask your own questions for a while. And it's about time I answered one of them. My name is Alastor Moody. And, in case you're interested, I used to be the best Auror in the business. Until I was forced to retire."

"Because of your injuries?"

"No," the man snarled. "Because I refused to believe the lying bastards who claimed they were forced to serve You-Know-Who because of some stupid spell or some other dumb reason." He smiled whimsically. "I became an embarrassment."

Draco smiled as well. That was something he could relate to.

"Could I ask where I am?"

Moody nodded. "Won't get a different answer though. I don't give out that information lightly."

The man answered few of Draco's questions, and the answers were short. In the end he knew little more than he did before. One thing was obvious: The man was suspicious of everyone, not only of the boy who had wandered onto his doorstep. When asked about some of the things on his bookshelves, every one he pointed out was related to spying on someone or keeping them from spying on him. What the sneakoscope was for. The Dark Detector and the Secrecy Sensor. After that he waved his hand and said they all did something or other.

After Draco was done with his questions, Moody stood up, with surprising agility. He told Draco to help himself to the larder if he was still hungry. He was welcome to look at the books but not to touch anything else on the shelves. And he warned Draco to stay indoors, and to stay away from the windows. He would be out for a while.

Draco nodded. "Ya were plannin' on 'elpin' me all along."

Moody gave Draco a truly friendly smile. "You are the bright one. You told me enough in your ravings to let me know something big was up. And I've been too long twiddling my thumbs. If I crack this, I can get them to make me an Auror again. And if I simply hand you over with all of the information, all I'll get is a thank you very much and we'll owl you if we need you." He leaned into Draco. "I'm eager for a fight, boy, and you gave me one. Least I can do is clear your name while I'm at it."

Moody walked over to a pot and grabbed a pinch of powder. Turning to Draco, he said sternly, "Constant Vigilance. Remember that." He threw the powder into the fire, which flared up bright green, and called out, "Diagon Alley." He stepped into the flames and was gone.

* * *

Draco went to bed long before Moody finally returned. When he awoke the next morning, there was a new piece of furniture in the bedroom, a wardrobe with a chest of drawers attached. Surprise did not keep Draco from investigating. And that he found clothes was no surprise either, nor that they were all his size. What did was that they were off-the-rack clothes. That meant that Moody had bought them in muggle shops.

It made sense. Everyone must know who the man is. If he went to wizard shops, the questions would start at once. Why would a man who lived alone suddenly need childrens' clothes? Curious as to what else had happened, Draco dressed in jeans and a shirt, socks and trainers, threw on a jumper and went downstairs.

"In here," Moody called from the kitchen as Draco neared the bottom of the stairs. He turned left and walked through the door to find breakfast waiting for him. Ham and eggs, with a glass of juice. There were rolls as well, and a tub of butter. The man was filling his own plate as Draco walked in.

Over breakfast, Moody went over his plans for the day. He was going out again, for more supplies, but also to talk to a few people. The rules were the same as the day before except Draco was to specifically read chapters of certain books. And to reread them if he wasn't sure what he read. He couldn't practice magic but he could still learn about spells he might need. Nor was there any need for him not to keep up on his studies as far as knowing about plants and animals as well as the potions he would normally be learning. Draco didn't even think about protesting the idea. At least he had something specific to occupy his time. He would be staying inside this house for quite some time.

It was the third morning that Draco realized he had never asked what day it was. He knew winter had set in because of the snow on the trees, but he never thought to ask how far into the winter it was. He found out when he walked down the stairs. Music was coming from a radio. Christmas music.

"By the fireplace," Moody called out, and Draco turned left. Moody was on the couch, as usual, leaving the chair by the fire for Draco. Across from the fireplace from his chair was a Christmas tree. It was a live tree, in a large garden pot. And the lights weren't on it, but floating around it of their own accord, flickering as they moved in and out among the branches like multicoloured fireflies.

"Not much," Moody admitted, "but I thought you'd like something. Don't usually decorate."

"It's beautiful," Draco told him as he walked up to the tree. He tried to touch one of the lights but it flew away from him and into the branches.

"I have a gift for you, of sorts," Moody told him. "I talked to old friends over eggnog, and stronger stuff, about how a few things struck my interest about your case. At the right time, I brought up the idea of a private investigation, simply for something to do, just to see what I could come up with."

"They agreed?" Draco asked, still staring at the lights.

"Once I made note of the fact that most of the people involved have little experience with muggles."

Draco laughed, "I remember when Cas came by for me birthday. He thought he was dressed to blend in."

Moody's voice had a bitter edge. "That would be Casper . . . Black, Bellatrix's boy."

"She's me godmother."

"I know."

Draco turned to the man. "She made 'er sister promise not to 'urt me."

Moody laughed. "And she kept that promise, I can assure you. Poisoning didn't hurt you one bit. Even if it did almost kill you." His face became grim. "Listen, boy. Bellatrix Lestrange may be your godmother, but she's as hard as they come. If she ever decides to, she'll make you wish you were dead just for the fun of it."

Draco didn't argue. For all that he knew, that was the truth. Aunt Bella had already shown that she likes to be in control. Casper was proof of that. As it was, Draco shrugged his shoulders.

"Coulda been an accident. Dobby don't know from nuthin' about drugs."

"Possibly," Moody conceded, although his tone let Draco know that the possibility was slim, as far as he was concerned. "Change the subject?"

Draco nodded. Walking over to his chair, he sat down. "Whot you investigatin'?"

"That school you were sent to. Saint Brutus. At least that's what I'm supposed to do. It's where I'll start. Look around for a bit; make my boss think I'm really doing what I asked."

"Won't find nuthin'. Weren't there long enough."

Moody smiled. "Mister Malfoy, this is part of your education while you are with me. I am not going there to find out about you. I am going there to find out if any other wizard has been nosing about. I want to know how hard people are looking for you, the good ones and the bad ones. And I'll leave the matter open as to which group anyone I find should belong to."

Draco nodded again. This man had thought things out and had a clear plan of action. Then he had a bad thought.

"Sir, I 'ave frien's . . . muggles."

"They're safe enough. No one's going to bother with them, except to keep an eye out. In case you show up. But that brings up another point. I want you to write me a list. Every person you know outside of Hogwarts, what you know about them, where I can find them. I'll want to check everyone. You can start tomorrow." He reached into his robe and pulled out a package that should have been too large to hide. "Merry Christmas."

Draco snatched the package eagerly and tore the wrapping off the box. He opened it with wide-eyed expectation. He looked up, puzzled. "Whot is it?"

"Dress robes. Barely used and a good price. They might be a bit big for you now but you'll grow into them soon enough."

Draco gave the man a confused thank you. He took them out of the box and tried them on out of courtesy. But it was when he looked in the mirror. It was as though a stranger were looking back at him. For a fleeting moment, Draco knew what it meant to look rich. For Draco, that alone made it a wonderful present. He even thought of a place where he might wear them.

"Think they'll let me wear this for me trial?"

Moody snorted. "I don't think they'll ever bother giving you one."


	11. The Muggle World

A/N: I said I would no longer comment on things I know nothing about. As a result, I have nothing to say.

**Chapter 11: The Muggle World**

Time passed with steady monotony. When he did not go out, Moody taught Draco to play chess. Once Draco mastered the basics, he learned wizards' chess. It was played the same way but the pieces physically attacked each other. Draco also learned, in an embarrassing fashion, that the pieces could even refuse to move. He asked to go back to the muggle version until he understood the game better.

Draco had the idea of teaching Moody how to play poker. After an hour of playing, Moody asked how much more money he had to win in order to lose the game.

Draco also had several tasks. He would read the Daily Prophet every day, looking for any articles that might be about him or Hogwarts in any way. He then had to note the inaccuracies between the articles and what he knew. It gave him something to do beside reading books, even though he was still reading. It also helped him keep current with what was going on at the school. Theories were being thrown around about all the possible causes. And there was frequent mention of someone still on the grounds who could be involved. Sometimes the articles referred to an adult who had befriended "The Malfoy". Moody told him his guess was correct. They were talking about Rubeus Hagrid.

Moody also kept him informed about the basics of what he had discovered. There were wizards watching the various muggles that Draco knew, but it was not a serious problem. The main reason was that the Ministry of Magic wanted to know what happened to "The Malfoy" in case Draco had revealed the existence of magic to anyone. Otherwise, no one seemed to care.

He also mentioned that the muggle newspapers were talking about Saint Brutus. After a spot of trouble with the press, the school announced that "a recently missing boy had been returned." Draco laughed. The school was covering up their problem, and he was in no position to call them liars.

Early February was when things changed. It was shortly after noon when Moody came back. He was dressed as usual with an eyepatch over his magical eye, and his prosthetic spelled to look like the muggle version. Draco could read the man well enough by now to know that he was excited about something. He walked over to Draco and handed him a newspaper. He said there was an article in there that would be of interest.

Curious, Draco took the newspaper. It was the London Times. And on the front page was a picture of a group of protestors. Below it was the headline, "Outcry Over Missing Youth".

"Miss Carmichael?" She was in the foreground of the picture, as clear as day. Like everyone else, she was looking to the right of the photographer. And she was holding a sign. It was so incongruous that he could only stare. The sign she was holding said, "SHOW US".

Draco's eyes finally moved. Of the dozen people he could see clearly, out of who knew how many, he knew half of them from the neighbourhood. Nigel, still pimply at sixteen, was standing next to Miss Carmichael. His hand was raised in a fist and he was shouting something. Draco had never seen him in such a rage. Two other faces particularly caught his eye. Mahresa. And her mother. It was as though all of Grimauld Place, all of Grimauld Square, had risen up.

Draco looked up at Moody, mouthing the word, "Me?" When Moody nodded, Draco turned back to the newspaper and began to read:

"_What originated yesterday as a small protest vigil by a handful of people became a near riot at the CID barracks in Scotland Yard. Sparked by an early morning announcement that the investigation of Saint Brutus Academy was officially ended, the half dozen protesters grew to a crowd of hundreds by afternoon. While no arrests were made, detours were erected to compensate evening traffic as the crowd refused to disperse._"

While the article went into detail, the main points were simple to follow. An unnamed student had escaped from Saint Brutus and, the school claimed, had recently been returned. The student was being kept in isolation for a period of time to 'readjust'. Despite being an open and shut case, someone petitioned to see the boy in question, which was denied because the person was not directly related.

A protest began outside the gates of Saint Brutus after the boy's parole officer was refused permission to interview the boy. In such circumstances, an interview would have been routine. The protest became a vigil, and a formal petition was issued to the government. The matter was then turned over to CID. In what was supposed to be a diplomatic gesture, detectives asked those gathered at the school to move, offering them a permit to hold their vigil near CID headquarters now that they were taking responsibility of the matter. That was two days ago. The day after that, a detective held a conference, claiming to have interviewed the boy and said the matter was officially closed. After a series of questions, the vigil group demanded that the boy be shown to them as proof. The article closed with a statement that the boy had an obvious birthmark which the detective in question admitted that he had not seen.

"They asked about me scar?"

Moody gave the boy a vicious smile. "Correct. Someone asked the detective if the boy was injured about the face or had any scars. The detective admitted the boy had minor bruises but . . ." he pointed at Draco's forehead, ". . . NO scars."

Without pausing to explain, Draco was told to grab his coat. They were going out.

The idea of getting out of the house was one that Draco had dwelt on during the slow weeks. And suddenly he had too? He asked no questions but bound up the stairs for his coat. He had it on before he reached the bottom of the stairs. Moody was holding out a cap for him to wear. He said it should be all the disguise he would need. Draco looked at the design. It was a football club.

"Manchester City? Whot's wrong wit' Arsenal?"

"It's your disguise. It shows that you're not local. Not that anyone might recognize you, yet."

"Yet?"

Draco understood after a second. The article in the paper was talking about him, but did not give his name or show a picture. He was still anonymous.

He followed Moody out of the house, regretting that the man made it a point to walk fast. It was the first chance he had to look around. When they reached a copse of trees, Moody asked if he ever apparated before. Draco told him no. Moody told him to grab his arm and step with him as he cast the spell. Draco did, feeling as though he was being squeezed then just as suddenly released. Moody cast a quick look around, then looked at his pocket watch. Satisfied, he ushered Draco out of the alleyway and into a nearby pub. At the last minute Draco was told he was his nephew, Dan, in town for a few days to visit Uncle Al. Draco couldn't help but grin.

"Usual, Al?" the bar man asked, casting a curious glance at Draco, who was looking around with curiosity of his own. About half the tables and most of the bar were full.

"Thanks, Mac," Moody replied as he claimed a table near the television. "This is my nephew. The one I told you about."

"So you're Dan?" the barman asked.

"Pull me a pint, too," Draco replied.

The barman laughed, "In your dreams, mate." He placed the pint on the bar along with a bottle of lemonade.

"And Two Fish and Chips, Mac?" Moody asked.

"Some will be fresh up in ten minutes."

Satisfied, Moody sat down with Draco. He looked at his watch and turned to watch the telly. Draco watched without interest for a few minutes, mostly looking instead at the decor of the pub which was mostly framed football posters. Once the food arrived, he picked up the fish and bit into it. Then he gulped his lemonade because the fish was hot. As he swallowed, he saw Moody nod to him. The news was coming on. This was something Draco would want to watch.

Foreign news, nothing unusual. Domestic news, all normal except for the protest in London. Draco ate slowly as he watched. He knew the protest would be of interest to him.

And the protest story appeared. A group outside the Saint Brutus Academy. And it wasn't a group of rich people. Just the opposite. Miss Carmichael was the best dressed person in the mob.

That was Nigel near the front, with Mahresa. And Dudley! And they were all following . . . "Mick?"

"You know him?" The man at the next table asked, casually.

"Yeah, um," Draco tried to think fast. "'e's a mechanic. Fixed me dad's car."

"Bad thing," the lady with him said. "My sister lives near that school." She looked at Moody. "She says the boy was his age."

"Whot happened?" Draco dared to ask.

The man laughed. "Up and disappeared a while back. That school claims they got him but they won't show him to anybody."

"People are saying they killed him," the lady added as gossip, "and they're trying to hush it up."

The serving girl came by with a second pint for Moody. As she sat it down and took the empty glass, she added, "Stinks if you ask me. My Jack tells me they won't even show 'im to the cops."

As the news turned to another story, so did the conversation. Draco looked up at Moody to see the man smiling. Draco knew why. The man would soon tell him the next part of his plan.

* * *

Draco was watching the crowd carefully from a safe distance. He felt more nervous and out of place than ever before. Especially about being recognized. Not that anyone would. Not with the grey anorak and blue bobble hat. Again, Moody assured him that the disguise was simple. A pair of glasses, round wire rims with plain lenses, made it perfect. No one would give a second look at the nerdy boy with his uncle.

"'ow'd you manage this?" Draco asked, adding, 'Uncle Al'.

"When you're dealing with a group, it's easier than dealing with one person."

"An' you got 'em to march on Saint Brutus?"

"They did that on their own. Same as their coming back today. The ones that left. We're merely taking advantage of a useful situation. What I did was have a friend apply a mental push to the man in charge of the school. The idea had already been suggested but no one at the top wanted to do anything yet."

"A frien'? You got mates?"

Moody gave Draco a friendly whack on the head. "Of course not. He's a former business associate." He casually flicked his hand toward the brown stone wall about thirty feet from the gate. "I believe you've met him. He agreed to help on the condition that he could come and watch the results."

"'e brought 'is own frien'," Draco noted. By the wall, on the edge of the crowd, was the man who had escorted Draco from Hogwarts. And sitting on his haunches next to Shacklebolt was Sirius Black's dog. As though they were listening, they turned and looked at him, both Shacklebolt and the dog. The man then looked down at the dog which stood up and walked over.

"T'ought ya din't do much," Draco said to Moody as the dog sat down again, this time next to him. It was meant in anger, but it didn't sound like that. Nor was there any anger left by the time he finished. His hand had moved and deliberately patted the dog on the head. It used to watch him, but now it was watching out for him. "Stupid," he said to himself.

"Were you talking to me?"

"Whot? No. Jus' thinkin' out loud is all."

"And what's stupid?" Moody asked.

"Me," Draco admitted. "Been scared for weeks 'cause I din't know what to do. Scared this stupid plan won't work. An' now I'm fine." Draco giggled. "I got me a dog an' Bob's yer Uncle." Draco looked down at the dog and his eyes bulged. "Tha' dog jus' winked at me."

"Not surprised," Moody admitted. "That's one smart dog. And don't worry. We're all here to nudge the plan to make sure it does work." He leaned down and whispered some final instructions. As Draco listened, he saw someone with the police glance in his direction and pause. It was Inspector Givens. Draco wasn't sure but he thought he saw the man smile before turning away. Draco looked up.

"Uncle Al?"

"He knows. It was Black's idea. Said we could trust the man to help us."

"Do what?"

"Should be obvious. To keep them from dragging you back inside that . . . place."

They watched as the crowd continued to grow. It was more than the neighbourhood. Social groups sent supporters now that the news cameras were out. And a fair number of people came by just to be there.

As the eleventh hour approached, signs of movement could be seen from the main building. Draco knew this because someone near the gates shouted that they were coming out. Three men appeared shortly on the other side of the gate as the police took their position, making a solid line between the protestors and the makeshift platform holding a podium riddled with microphones. Other police also kept the crowd from interfering with the press and blocking the line of sight of the cameras.

The gate opened and one of the men stepped forward and mounted the platform to stand at the podium. It was the doctor who had examined Draco.

The boy smiled. That was the mental nudge. The situation demanded a formal statement. And the man who would deliver it would be the one who would recognize a certain blond boy with a scar on his forehead.

"We are here today to set to rest a certain matter of a boy who is being detained at our facility," the doctor said, reading from a script. "Because of certain emotional problems on the part of the boy in question, he will not be paraded in front of everyone simply as entertainment. It IS for his safety and health that he is being held in isolation. Questions about his identity are scurrilous and their only purpose is provocation. CID has already confirmed his identity. Furthermore, qualified doctors have been invited to examine him and help in his recovery. Once he has regained his health, physically and mentally, he, like all the other students, may have visitors according to our standard procedures."

Draco was already moving forward. The dog paced him as he walked briskly along the edge of the crowd. Once they reached the line of police, he turned and began walking between them and the front of the crowd, the dog between him and the police. Everyone was eyeing him carefully. The doctor had finished saying "standard procedures" when the dog suddenly twisted in place and began growling and snapping its teeth. The policemen in that spot jumped back in surprise, and a prepared Draco jumped through the gap. One policeman grabbed Draco's anorak, and was left holding it. Draco ran up the half flight of steps and pulled off the cap.

"'scuse me, Doc," Draco said as he pushed into the surprised man. "I ain't comin' out 'cause I ain't gone back in yet." He smiled to himself as the words echoed from the speakers set up for the crowd.

Draco stood to the side of the podium so that the press had a clear view of him, putting his hand in his pocket to hide what he had stolen. When he looked at Mick, who was gobsmacked, he couldn't help but grin wildly. Someone shouted a cheer, and Draco saw Nigel, his fist in the air, his face now filled with as much joy as it had anger in that picture. And Miss Carmichael. She had a simple smile, as though he had merely walked into her office to ask her something. She raised her hands and began to clap. Someone else picked up on it and the applause spread. Draco basked in his moment of glory.

Then someone ruined it.

The doctor angrily grabbed Draco's shoulder and called for the guards. Somehow, he forgot about the cameras and microphones. The crowd reacted at once. Draco recognized the mood. It was one step before riot. The doctor yanked Draco toward the steps. The crowd surged forward. The police linked arms in anticipation. The officer in charge called for backup and crowd dispersal. And one man suddenly stood in front of Draco and the Doctor, blocking their path. He did not look at Draco but glared directly over his head. And he spoke words that Draco was personally familiar with.

"You are under arrest."

"THIS BOY IS AN ESCAPED PRISONER."

"You have assaulted a minor without cause. You have falsified documentation related to a minor in your care. And you have deliberately lied to a police officer in the course of his duty." Inspector Givens smiled as the echoes from the microphones died away. "Will you cooperate or will I need to use force?"

Of a sudden, the doctor remembered where he was. He released Draco with a look of abject capitulation. The crowd cheered as Givens put the handcuffs on him and handed him over to a uniformed policeman.

"Where'd you come from?" Draco asked in delight.

"The questions is where did you go off to."

Draco shrugged. "Don't rightly know. Doctor gave me a shot of somethin' by mistake. Sicko-tropical stuff. Made me wonky."

Draco didn't have to look. He could hear the members of the press demanding to ask questions. Givens was glaring at him now. "We will discuss this in a more private venue."

"What's his name?" someone asked and nodded when they received an answer. As Draco stepped down from the platform, someone was sticking a microphone in his face. "Danny, isn't it. Do you remember anything about your escape?"

"None of that," Givens began to say.

"Don' know nuthin'," Draco said quickly. "Still got 'is keys though." He pulled the doctor's keys out of his pocket and held them up. Givens grabbed the keys and pushed Draco to a now waiting car. Another man, from CID, stopped them.

"I was shown someone that they claimed to be you. He was near comatose."

"Mumbles a lot 'bout bein' a good boy? I was told 'e'd been like that for months."

The man nodded and told Givens to get Draco out of there.

As Draco was ushered into the back of the police car, shouting erupted. Half the police were now screaming for the crowd to get out of the way. Draco watched in surprise as a ramtruck drove forward at high speed and smashed through the now closed gates. The detective, and most of the policemen present followed them into the school. Those police who remained made sure no protestors or reporters tried to follow. Draco looked out the side window when he saw a figure standing there. It was Shacklebolt. He had the same look that Mick had. That told Draco that this was no part of their plan.

"Whot happened?" Draco asked when Givens joined him in the back seat.

Givens was smiling. "I apologize, Draco. I know you don't like being used."

"You knew I'd be here."

Givens nodded. "And I knew you'd try to clear your name, which is impossible, of course."

"WHOT?"

Givens was laughing. The car was already moving when he calmed down enough to speak. "Did you ever hate anything enough to want to destroy it?"

"YOU 'ate Saint Brutus? You been there?"

"As a guest. But I've had business with too many of its graduates. Such a place plays well in political circles, but its best use is an excuse to increase our departmental budget. Personally, we can live without the extra work."

Draco nodded. It wasn't just Givens. That detective, too. And others. They conned the con. They sat around and waited for the right excuse, then pounced before their prey could react. The wizards wanted to keep Draco in the open, to keep their eye on him, and their plan handed Givens and his friends the chance to finally spring their trap.

"Draco, you can remove your glasses, now."

* * *

Draco was glued to the telly. Politicians who praised Saint Brutus six months ago were demanding full accountability. People like Mick were being interviewed, asked to tell their experiences. Nigel was talking to a reporter from the BBC, screaming actually. "I was sent there 'cause I stole food. I wen' in 'ungry an' came out a drug addict."

It was the third time he had seen that particular clip. Another popular clip was the mother of the barmy kid in that cell. All she did was cry about "what they did to my boy." He noticed that no one talked to the parents of the serious criminal cases. Not good for the ratings.

Finally, they showed again the clip with Mick. He seemed almost civilized, calm and in control. "Too many been hurt already," he was saying. "An' it's us that get hurt. Any posh gets caught they get a slap or a country club. It's gotta change an' it's gonna change."

"Draco?" It was Inspector Givens.

"They got me name wrong," Draco told him. "Callin' me Danny Malloy."

"No matter. Thanks to what Nigel's telling them, and what's already come out about those three boys in the hospital wing, a runaway who turns himself in is not much of a story." He paused. "Do you remember this room?"

"Should I?"

"Years ago I sat with you, where you are now, and asked if you wanted more stew."

Draco shook his head. He didn't even remember the stew. "Sorry. Too long ago, I guess."

"No matter. Would you like a visitor or two?"

"Janice? Mick?"

"They're both too busy right now. But . . ."

He stepped aside to reveal a black woman with greying hair. Before he knew it, Draco was on his feet. He covered the distance between them in record time. And stood there, hugging Miss Carmichael for all he was worth. As she stroked his head, all he could think of was "I don't want to cry".

"You are no end of trouble," Miss Carmichael told him.

"I saw you in the papers," Draco answered, not letting go.

"And now you have to make the time I spent on you worth it."

Draco looked up and Miss Carmichael wiped away a tear from his cheek. "Anythin'."

"Let's sit down and talk."

Inspector Givens turned off the television and joined the other two at the table. The policeman at the door nodded and closed it behind him. Draco smiled and wiped his nose, waiting to find out what would happen.

"The girl I was told about?" Miss Carmichael asked.

Draco looked down. "Don't know what to say. Din't do anythin' wrong. Don't know why she did it."

"She assaulted you?"

"Kinda. She came on to me, then ripped 'er shirt open, then screamed I attacked 'er."

"Why would she do that?"

Draco paused as he tried to think of how to explain it. He opted for the truth.

"Don' know."

"Really?"

"Maybe she din't like me. Only thin' I can think of. Got t'rown out 'cause of it."

"I should mention one odd thing," Givens said. "Despite the original report I was given, no charges were ever filed. Which means that Draco is not accused of anything."

"I'm free to go?" Draco asked.

"Hardly. Not being in school, without a proper reason, is still a violation of your parole. Being expelled is not a proper reason."

Draco slumped.

"On the other hand," Givens said, grinning as Draco perked up, "we do have an alternative to sending you to another facility. Because of your cooperation in our investigation."

Draco nodded slowly. His cooperation was telling him everything he remembered about his time in Saint Brutus. But he also knew Inspector Givens. He wasn't going to like the alternative. "Whot?" he asked without hope.

"Someone in the Ministry likes you and has suggested you be put in custody of . . . one of their people. They were vague about who 'their people' were, but I personally know the man they've chosen to act as your guardian."

Draco moaned when Inspector Givens called for the guard to open the door. As his new legal guardian walked in, Draco asked, "Can't I go back to Saint Brutus?"

Sirius Black laughed the loudest.

* * *

Draco was being permitted to pay one last visit before leaving London. His new guardian escorted him to the familiar garage that housed two people, make that three, that he deeply cared for. Janice hugged him for all he was worth, then yelled at him for causing so much trouble. Mick also hugged him and told him he outdid everyone with his surprise appearance. Cheryl held out her hands to let him know that she wanted to be held by her new uncle.

When Janice demanded to know the truth about the lurid stories she had heard, it was Sirius Black who answered. Draco was unpopular, still, and had been set up. Certain people were trying to prove that very point but it could take time. Janice revealed her extensive vocabulary by commenting about what rich kids could do with a certain number of large objects.

But Draco had his own questions. About the protests and all the people. And mostly about Mick clearly being one of the leaders.

"T'wer Givens whot started it," Mick admitted. "'e was told to shut up an' 'e came aroun'. Told us everythin'." He smirked. "Even asked us to cause trouble."

"An' the people?" Draco asked. "You 'ad Miss Carmichael carryin' a sign."

"Made it 'erself. Said people don't listen to shoutin' but will still take the time to read. She's the one that talked all them charity folk inta joinin' us. Made us more'an jus' a bunch o' hooligans, she said."

"Always liked 'im," Janice said. "Givens, that is. Din't know 'ow much 'e cared."

"Planned it," Draco admitted. "That detective was in on it. Knew right off them school people was lyin'. Jus' needed an excuse." His smile told them who the excuse was.

Sirius Black smiled at a thought. "When we thought up our plan to have Draco show up, we didn't know what they were planning to do. Surprised us by far. Never expected mu . . . them to do anything about that school."

Janice looked at him curiously but shrugged her shoulders, then took Cheryl back into her own arms. Mick, however, was curious.

"You knew where Draco was?"

"By pure luck. An old friend of mine ran across him shortly after Draco escaped. He claims that Draco thought he was his father. Once he knew Draco would recover, and knew who he was, he contacted a few people he could trust." Black looked at Draco. "I'll be honest. I was not one of them."

"Right." Draco knew what Black was not saying. Moody had waited weeks before telling anyone.

"An' what 'appens to Draco, now."

Black sighed. "We resolved one problem but we still have another problem with schooling. With all of the publicity, any school in London is out of the question. But my associate, the same one who found him, is making arrangements."

Janice laughed. "An' 'ow'll 'e 'ave the time ta watch Draco."

Black smiled. "Conveniently, he's retired."

"I'm goin' back wit' Uncle Al?" Draco asked with a smile. The smile became a frown when he looked at Mick and Janice. It meant he wouldn't be seeing them again, perhaps for a long time.

* * *

When it was time for Sirius Black to leave with Draco, Janice followed them out.

"Need ta talk to you, Private," she told him. "This school he's goin' to. It another one like 'ogwarts."

"I don't know what you mean," Black admitted.

"I read up on it, you know. Library's got lists. All schools. Yours wasn't on any of 'em."

"That's easy enough to explain."

"Don' bother. 'cause I knew Draco was there. Outside Saint Brutus. Knew 'e was there when I saw you . . . I saw your dog sit next to 'im, that's 'ow I knew."

"You saw 'is dog?" Draco asked in surprise.

Janice barked a laugh. "Yeah. 'ad to force meself. Was 'ard to do." She turned to Black, giving him a pointed look. "Even saw you wit' your dog, once. That's 'ow I knew you . . . owned it."

Black nodded his head. "I should ask . . ."

Janice gave him a smile that was almost a sneer. "Don't worry. Din't tell anyone. Not even Draco. An' I 'ad a lot of things to tell. Like boxes flyin' out of lorries an' glasses o' milk fallin' an' not breakin'." She turned her head. "You're a lucky one, Draco."

And Draco remembered. It was his first week. He knocked his glass of milk off the table. He became instantly afraid of what they would do to him. When he heard a thunk, he looked down. The glass had landed right-side-up and not a drop had spilled. Janice picked it up and put it back on the table. And she told the frightened boy, "You're a lucky one, Draco."

He looked up as Janice asked. "What do I call you? A magician or somethin'?"

Sirius Black pulled out his wand. "We're called wizards. And the women are called witches."

"An' 'ogwarts teaches 'em magic."

Sirius Black nodded. He held his wand up and started to say something, but Janice spoke first.

"Let me tell you somethin', Mister Wizard Black," she said forcefully. "We ain't got much 'ere except what we make for ourselves. Draco's me brother, an' the only family I got after Mick an' Cheryl, not 'cause o' blood, but 'cause we made ourselves a family." Her eyes were tearing but the angry words still came out. "I know you can't understan' that, but 'round 'ere that's the way life is. An' I can't protect me brother anymore. I gotta rely on you. An' I want you to promise me you'll help Draco. I need you to promise . . . I love 'im."

Draco was surprised by the outburst, but when he looked at Black he noticed a strange expression, like the man had been hit in the face. Black lowered his wand and said something unexpected.

"I promise. I promise because I do understand."

"Right. I believe that," a certain blond boy said.

"Don't you dare," Janice snarled, taking Draco aback. "And you listen to 'im when 'e tells you stuff. I know more'an you think, Draco Malfoy. Now promise me."

"Fine. I'll listen to 'im."

"And trust 'im."

"Whot?" Draco laughed. "Fine. 'ow's this. I'll trust 'im in a pinch."

Janice smiled through her tears. "It's somethin' at least." She hugged him one final time. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Draco said, and began to walk away. "Janice?"

"Whot?"

"When ye said all that, 'bout family . . ."

"I meant it."

"Yeah, well . . . bye, Sis."


	12. The Long and Winding Road

A/N: A single comment before I let everyone get on with their reading. Only one because, except for the usual let me thank everyone for reading comment (which I do mean), I can't think of anything. And in answer to Chicklepea's question, "Will Draco have to repeat the year", the answer is no. The reason is that I have no interest in writing eight books.

**Chapter Twelve: The Long and Winding Road**

Once they were safely away, Sirius Black had Draco grab his arm. Seconds later, they had apparated to a familiar copse of trees.

"Whot? I'm back 'ere for real?" Draco asked.

"It's my choice where you go," Black answered brusquely. "Remember, your first choice is no longer an option."

Draco had taken three steps before he realized that Sirius Black had made a joke. He stared up at the man who only looked straight ahead. The man WAS acting strange.

The now familiar house came into view and Black stopped. Pulling out his wand, he tapped it on the gate that led into the yard. It was the wizard's version of ringing the doorbell.

Alastor Moody appeared in the doorway. Whether he was surprised or not, he didn't show it. He waved his hand and the gate opened. Everyone went inside without saying a word.

"Here he is, Alastor, if you still want him."

"Won't do me any good with everyone knowing."

"No one knows."

Moody looked at Black with both eyes. Draco, sensing it would take a while, sat in his old chair by the fireplace to watch the proceedings. Kingsley Shacklebolt, in the chair across, nodded to him then also turned to follow the conversation.

"Why?" Moody asked in a voice so low that almost no sound came out. Sirius Black's response was to grin, then start laughing after getting out the words, "I was asked to."

Moody shook his head in disbelief. "So now we're three."

"Four," Shacklebolt said. "The boy is now a player."

Draco understood the reference. For every thing that had happened with Saint Brutus, Draco wasn't the reason. He was the excuse. It was like Mick had said, the school was an accident waiting to happen and Draco just happened to be the proper sized spanner.

"So, where do we stand," Moody asked.

Black smiled for no reason. "I'll file my report in the morning. As far as the Ministry is concerned, he lost his memory as a result of the drugs and only regained it recently. I intercepted him when he tried to return to Grimauld Place."

Draco laughed. "An' 'ow you gonna explain all them cameras an' reporters talkin' to me."

Kingsley chuckled this time. "Laughter is infectious. And no one interviewed you, Draco Malfoy. They talked to Daniel Malone."

"Malloy," Draco corrected. "Yeah, I complained about that but no one cared." He paused. "Was I really that unimportant?"

Moody walked over and clapped his shoulder. "Yes and no. What happened there had been brewing for a long time. We were only trying to get you back in the public eye, as the Minister wanted."

"Let me explain," Kingsley offered. "Draco, the school did not care what it did as long as the government gave it money, and the government did not care as long as the school had an image of strength and purpose. The victims finally became numerous enough to rebel. We tried to use that to slip you back into everyday life, as far as everyone, wizard and muggle, were concerned. Do you follow me so far?" When Draco nodded, Kingsley continued. "Not every victim was victimized. Do you understand? It weren't only the children who went there, but their parents and friends. And there were other victims beside . . ."

"I know," Draco said. And he did know where the lecture was going. "Givens told me. 'e could do wit'out all the extra work."

Kingsley grinned at the remark. "Well put, indeed. What we did when we gave the government the information that we wanted them to have, was that we handed it to the victims within the government. Because of his connection to you, we used the muggle, Givens, as our contact."

Moody was grinning. "Kingsley, you should have seen your face when that truck came out of nowhere and rammed through those gates."

"I saw it," Draco told them and did his best impersonation.

After the laughter, Moody was again looking at Black. "You said you found him. And?"

"And . . . I'm keeping him under wraps until . . ." Sirius paused. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Until hell freezes over," Draco offered.

"Useful suggestions."

"Leave it at that," Kingsley suggested. "If anyone cares, they will ask."

"And now," Black said cheerfully, "Now that I'm part of the conspiracy, what is the conspiracy about?"

Moody went around and inspected all of his devices. Black found it amusing at first but lost his smile when he noticed Shacklebolt had stood up to help. Draco couldn't help himself. When Black glanced in his direction, Draco said, in a perfect imitation of Moody's accent, "Constant Vigilance".

"Good. You learned something," Black retorted. "Do you know what those words mean?"

"We're safe," Moody finally said to no one in particular. "Kingsley, do you have Draco's present for him?"

"I've been waiting for this moment," Kingsley answered. He picked up a wooden box from behind the chair he had been sitting in, not a large box, perhaps a quarter of a meter in any direction. He sat the box on Draco's lap and removed the top. "Have you ever had a pet before?"

Draco looked into the box as the three men watched him. Moody and Shacklebolt were eager to see his reaction, but Black was confused. Draco, however, was now interested in the contents of the box.

"Is it dangerous?" Draco asked as he looked a thin snake perhaps half a meter long.

"I doubt it," Moody said. "I found it in the garden."

"_Foood,_" a voice hissed from inside the box.

Draco's eyes went wide. "It can talk?"

Moody and Shacklebolt were grinning ear to ear while Black seemed shocked. Draco could only conclude that talking snakes must be extremely rare and one certain boy clearly did not deserve one as a present.

"What did he say?" Moody asked, his smile never wavering.

"Food, 'e's 'ungry."

Moody held out his hand to reveal a moth and a beetle. "Ask him which one he wants."

Draco picked up the insects and showed them to the snake. "Pick one."

The snake edged its head upward and said, "_bothhhh._"

"Here you go," Draco said as he handed the beetle to the snake, which grabbed it from Draco's hand. He let the moth drop into the bottom of the box for after.

"'e'll need a name," Draco said, as he looked up. Sirius Black had a look of horror on his face. "Whot I do now?"

"Exactly what we hoped," Moody told him. "Draco, it is well past your bedtime." He took the box. "We'll name him in the morning."

Draco gave a concerned nod toward Sirius Black, but Moody's look told him not to worry. Draco obediently went upstairs to his bedroom and changed. His intention was to go out to the landing and listen in on the conversation downstairs, but that was a bad idea. He was more tired than he realized and ended up sleeping on the landing instead of the bed. And the only word he heard clearly was one he didn't understand. He would find out in the morning what Parselmouth meant.

* * *

Draco awoke on the landing, a blanket thrown over him and a pillow tucked under his head. Moody made it obvious that what Draco did was no surprise. He heard a noise and turned his head to look down the stair. Moody was there to tell him to get dressed.

When Draco arrived downstairs, clean and in fresh clothes, he made his way into the kitchen and stopped. Sirius Black was sitting at the table, glaring at Draco. Moody, his head inside the coldbox, said, "Don't worry, he won't bite you."

Draco tried to think of a response when Black said, "I'll have to take your word for it."

"I t'ought 'e was talkin' to me," Draco replied.

"Think all you want."

Something snapped inside of Draco. "WHOT'S WIFF YOU. ME DAD KILL YER MUM? WHOT?"

Moody was suddenly between them. "Sirius, perhaps Draco would act with more reason if we explained to him what is going on."

"As if he doesn't know."

"He doesn't," Moody said forcefully. "I made sure of that."

Draco looked from one man to the other. He was unsure about what to do. They looked ready to fight. A hand grabbed Draco's shoulder from behind. He screamed.

"Sorry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, masterfully controlling his urge to laugh.

"Bloody 'ell. Ya nearly killed me."

"That's my job, Kingsley," Black said, trying to suppress a grin of his own. When he caught Draco's eye, he added, "I think I might be a little paranoid."

"Let's sit by the fireplace," Kingsley suggested. "I think it is time to lay out our plans, what we have of them."

Minutes later, Draco was in his usual chair, a plate with two ham and egg sandwiches in his lap. Moody let him finish the first sandwich.

"Draco, before Sirius shouted the word at the top of his lungs, did you ever hear the term, Parselmouth."

"No."

"A parselmouth is a person who can talk to snakes, in their own tongue."

"An' I can do that?" When Moody nodded, Draco added, "An' 'e 'ates it 'cause why?"

Black answered. "We only know one other person who can do that. And we do not mention his name."

Draco, unthinking, put a hand to his scar. "An' you think . . ."

"He thinks he needs to think about it some more." That was Moody. "Draco, you're a smart boy. Why do you think we told you about that?"

"Dunno. So I can be a waiter at the London Zoo?"

Moody muttered something under his breath which sounded strongly like 'dumbass'.

"You heard voices at the school. Voices that weren't human."

"Voice, singular," Draco said firmly.

"Remarkable vocabulary," Shacklebolt noted.

"He knows more words than we do," Sirius Black told him. "Smartest kid in his year."

"'at would be 'ermione."

"The voice?" Moody reminded them.

Draco frowned as he thought. "If it's a snake, it's a right big one."

"That narrows it down?" Kingsley said.

"Whot? You think it's a big snake?"

"Perhaps. We both suspect a basilisk. It fits most of the pattern."

Black nodded. "Of course. Peter mentioned Hagrid complaining about the roosters being killed."

"A cock's crow can kill it," Moody told Draco.

"An' it petrifies its victims?" Draco asked.

"No. To look a basilisk in the eye is to die. And only the first victim died."

"But Dumbledore 'imself said the cat was petrified."

Moody gave Draco his hard smile. "The cat was its second victim. We know Professor Binns told you about the Chamber of Secrets. The Daily Prophet even reported they found writing on the wall. 'The Chamber of Secrets has been reopened'. That means it was opened once before. Fifty years ago. A student was killed. A student that you know."

"Moaning Myrtle?"

"And that is why you are here instead of at Hogwarts. You bragged that you were going to talk to her. You told everyone, including the Heir of Slytherin. The last thing the Heir needed was for you to interview the one person who saw the killer."

"So, we talk wit' 'er an' find out who the killer is."

"Therein lies the problem," Kingsley told them. "The basilisk's look kills, not petrifies."

Draco pondered that thought as Moody suggested they discuss the other points. Black agreed, and turned to Draco as the boy was reaching for his glass of juice. "Let me start by apologizing."

"Whot?" Sirius Black was apologizing to him? Juice splashed on his hand as Draco dropped his glass in surprise. Everyone was laughing lightly at the incident but Draco wasn't paying attention. He was watching a drop of juice roll down his thumb and fall to the table.

"COR."

"Draco?" Moody was asking.

"Moanin' Myrtle died after lookin' right at the basilisk, right? What if no one else did? Look right at it, I mean."

Moody gave Draco a genuine smile. "Go on."

"When I foun' Mrs. Norris, I remember slippin' on the wa'er. Wha'if she only saw the reflection?"

Black was also grinning. "The Creevy boy tried to take a picture of it. He was holding a camera in front of his face. And Granger was found with a mirror in her hand."

"She probably figured out what she was up against." Moody looked at Draco, who was staring in surprise. "We didn't mean to surprise you like that. It happened yesterday. Sirius found out when he went to make his report. That's why we're all here."

"She was petrified," Black said. "Her and another student." He mentioned a name Draco didn't know. "They'll both be fine after the potion is prepared."

Moody caught Draco's attention. "We still need to explain Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"Yeah, I remember," Draco said tonelessly. "Coun't figure out whot 'appened at first, 'cause they laid 'im on 'is back. They said 'e smashed into a suit of armor . . . 'e was gettin' up when 'e saw its reflection."

"Good. That fills the last hole," Moody was saying. "Now, how do we get in?"

"I can take care of that." Black answered. "The question is: where do we go when we get in?" Black asked.

"It's obvious. Where did Myrtle die?"

"Do you think . . ."

"It didn't come down the hall and through the door. It must be using the plumbing. Even if I'm wrong, Draco had the right of it. We need to talk to her."

"I could ask Peter," Sirius suggested.

"You'd have to tell him why," Moody reminded him. "We didn't even want you as part of this. The fewer the better."

Sirius grinned. "I hope I never become as paranoid as you are."

Draco looked at Sirius Black. His words came out with the authority of an Oxford don. "It is the safest place to be. Trust no one. Not even your best friend. Unless you have to. And then pray to the god of your choice that you're lucky."

Sirius Black gave him a simple smile. "You're always more imposing when you use your fancy voice. Are you ready for my latest news?"

"Good time as any."

"The Minister for Magic has ordered Rubeus Hagrid to be arrested. Today."

Draco didn't think he could be hit any harder. Every friend he had was being taken from him one by one. "Why?" When Sirius declined to answer, he turned to Moody. "Why?"

"Because Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts. Fifty years ago. For harbouring a monster."

"The basilisk?" Draco could feel the blood draining from his face. This was the last thing he expected.

"A spider," Moody said casually. "A big one. It occurs to me, Draco, that he may have been set up."

* * *

"Do you feel better?" Moody said, as Draco opened his eyes.

"Lots. You spiked me drink." He was lying on his bed.

"A calming potion. You've had a lot of things thrown at you the past couple of days."

"Anyone still 'ere?"

"No. We agreed that you didn't need to be a part of our plans. Yet. We need to lay the groundwork. Among other things, we need to get your wand from Dumbledore, which won't be half as hard as getting you back into Hogwarts. Especially with all the extra security. You can relax for a few weeks. And enjoy the next couple of days."

"You can get me wand that quick?"

"Not quite. Someone's been asking about you. One of the muggles. You're going to school right here in the village."

"Muggle school?"

"It will be good for you. Went to it, myself, in my younger days."

Draco had to laugh. "You? Why?"

"Because my parents were muggles."

Draco smiled. It explained a lot about Moody. About how he could be comfortable in both worlds, comfortably paranoid that is. "Could you tell me, why do you go to that pub?"

Moody smiled at a memory, or perhaps dozens of them, and his voice became a little less of a growl. "I drank my first pint, there. Sat back listening to the music, talking to my uncle, and sipping that wonderful amber brew. I was eight at the time."

Moody started laughing because Draco did not realize his last line was a joke.

* * *

"You're the new kid?" the taller boy asked. "Mad-Man Moody's nephew."

Draco nodded, and looked at the bus stop, hoping the school bus would come.

"My dad say's he lost it in the war."

"Naw, he lost it in bed . . ." Draco prided himself on his tact for omitting the last part. What he started to add was extremely insulting.

The other boy looked wide-eyed at him and snorted. "That was a good one. So, what does your uncle do?"

"Don't know. I do know a couple of men from the Ministry stopped by to see him late Friday night, shortly after I arrived."

"I believe that. What did they talk about?"

"I don't know. I was sent to bed." Draco glared at the road holding it responsible for the school bus not arriving.

"I believe that, too."

Draco lost his temper. He threw his prepared lunch on the ground and glared at the other boy. "Listen, you teenage prat . . ."

"I'm twelve," the boy said defensively.

"Righ'. You're still a prat. Make one more remark 'bout me Uncle an' you'll see Ollies comin' at your Chevy fer ten minutes. Unnerstan'?"

"Yes," the boy said, then added slowly, "Not really."

"What's all this then," The bus driver demanded.

"New boy," the boy said.

Draco withheld his tongue about what he thought of the bus driver showing up at that very moment.

"Get on board," the school bus driver demanded.

As Draco picked up his lunch, the boy said, "Look, sorry about your uncle."

Draco boarded the bus. He pulled out the cap that Moody had forced on him out of his lunch bag and put it on. He sat down in an empty seat and the boy sat next to him, staring in surprise when he saw the emblem on the cap.

"Manchester City? They beat Arsenal yesterday, 3 - 0," the boy said, staring at the cap. "I'm Ephram,"

"Drake," Draco told him, then added with a grin, "Sucks to be Arsenal."

* * *

"So," Ephram asked him, that weekend, as he finished giving Draco a tour of the village, "Did the Ministry really send people to your uncle's house."

"Yeah."

"And you have no idea what they talked about."

Draco smiled. "Snakes. Really big ones."

"Snakes?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah. I think those blokes were in charge of a zoo."

Ephram nodded to the approaching boy. "There's Mitchell." Mitchell was the third of the three boys in their class who caught the bus from that part of the village, which was really a small town.

"Hi, F, Dragon," the new boy said, grinning. "You said we'd talk about money."

" it's bread an' 'oney," Draco explained. "It's simple rhymin'. Lady Godiva is a fiver. (The way Draco pronounced it, they did rhyme.) A fifty is nifty, an' a Quid is Plymouth Sound."

"This is great. My mom's going to hate me for talking like that."

"What are you doing, now, Draco," Inspector Givens asked from behind.

"I thought your name was Drake," Ephram said.

"It's a term of affection," Givens said offhandedly. "Is there anything else they don't know about you, Drake - o?"

"You'll tell 'em. Always do."

Mitchell dared to ask. "Are you with the police?"

Givens smiled and showed his badge. "CID."

"'at's a promotion. Congrats, Inspector." Draco smiled. "Detective."

"Are you a friend of his family?" Ephram asked.

"In a sense."

Draco decided what the hell. "'e's me parole officer."

"Was," Givens corrected. "Which is why I'm here. It has been three full years without one official complaint on record. You are now a free man, more or less."

Draco was smiling. Ephram and Mitchell now liked their new friend that much more. In a small town, or big village, having a reputation as a bad boy could be fun.

"Am I allowed back in Harrod's then?"

"Never."

"What did you do?" Mitchell demanded.

"Got caught. Was only nine. Din't know any better."

Givens rolled his eyes. "Draco, you have this wonderful environment, free from all the hardships of London. Why don't you take advantage of it?" He noted the glint in Draco's eye. "Perhaps I should rephrase that."

Givens left Draco and his friends to their play and went to Alastor Moody's house for the final interview. Draco was not surprised that Givens noticed nothing unusual about the house. Moody had told him about the charms already in place. A wizard could have apparated directly in front of the detective and he would have seen a man who just walked into the room.

Meanwhile, Draco began to fit in. His reputation helped him with the other boys because it made him more interesting. One day a girl asked him if it was true. She had hair the same colour as Janice. And she smiled. He used his fancy voice to answer her.

"I saw some candy. I ate half of it before the clerk asked me how much money I had."

"You stole candy?"

"I was nine. I was too young to steal liquor."

And, inevitably, there was the bully who had to show off. He pushed Draco from behind and said, "I was told you were tough."

Draco picked himself up and turned around. "Name ain't Mikey, is it?"

The other boy laughed. "Why would it be Mikey."

Draco held his hands up, palms facing the boy."Listen, Wally, I'll be 'onest wit' ya. I'm puttin' me one an' two in your cobbler an' then I'll explain."

The boy stopped laughing and pulled his fist back. "Don't call me a Wally." As the boy stepped forward, so did Draco, his foot coming up between the other boy's legs. As Draco had warned him, his one and two (From the old children's song, 'one, two, buckle my shoe) went into the other boy's cobbler. The boy collapsed.

"Now, I'll explain 'bout Mikey," Draco said to the writhing boy. "This is where I got me t'rown outa me old school. I din't stop hittin' 'im."

* * *

"He attacked my son," the woman accused.

The school headmistress laughed in her face. "Two dozen witnesses called it self defense, and he was warned, in a manner of speaking. If you want anyone thrown out of this school it will have to be your son."

The woman left in disgust and the headmistress turned to Draco. "I know enough about cockneys to know what cobblers are. Perhaps it would be best if you no longer shared your local idioms with the rest of the students. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mrs. Bentham."

"And congratulations on winning your first fight."

"First?"

Mrs. Bentham gave him a smile that was not a smile. "You wanted to be a bad boy. Now you have to prove yourself to all of the other bad boys. He was only the first."

Draco nodded. He wasn't having as much fun anymore.

* * *

"Look, there he is," someone said, a boy in his mid teens. The other in the group smiled at the two boys in front of them. "Are you still as bad as they say?"

Draco sighed as Ephram suggested they walk away. Walking away rarely worked. Sometimes talking did, if you talked fast enough and used the right words.

"Was," Draco said with a shrug. "Ain't much reason any more."

"Ain't much reason?" one of the others asked in a mocking tone.

"Got me a roof an' three squares now."

There was a slight pause as everyone suddenly looked at Draco or away.

"Guess that's all you need," the leader said with a smile. He held out his fist and Draco hit it with his own as he walked away. Ephram was impressed in more ways than one. "Dragon? You lived on the streets? Literally? What was it like?"

"F, I'll be honest with you. I had friends. And sometimes, I miss them so much that I wish they were living here with me. But I'll never missed them enough to want to go back there to live."

They walked quietly for a long time by twelve-year-old standards, almost half a minute.

Then conversation went back to normal things. How they did on the last test. Did Arsenal really have a chance this year what with the way they were playing. Did either of them really like Diane Bentham even though her mother ran the school. When they ran into Mitchell, he expressed his opinion. The smart money was on Manchester, they brought up some players from the youth club who looked good. He also stated that Diane liked him so it didn't matter what they thought.

* * *

It was too good to last. Moody would talk about the difficulties they were having but Draco didn't care. A part of him already wanted this life to last forever.

But it could not, and Draco did know that. He came home from school one Monday afternoon to find Shacklebolt and Black there. He had last seen Shacklebolt the weekend when the man showed up for the football match. Draco had been forced to join the local youth club through the most diabolical means possible. Ephram asked if he wanted to. He even said it would be fun.

What happened was that Draco was given number seven, and Mitchell's mum, who grew up in Manchester, kept telling him he had a lot to live up to. "After all, Eric Cantona . . ." Draco saved himself some grief by interrupting her and telling her he already cleared the first hurdle. He was born in France. As she hugged him, he mentally thanked Mitchell for talking about sports all the time.

It was the second match he played in. Draco had managed not to fall and to even run with the ball without losing it. That was when Moody appeared with Shacklebolt at his side. To bolster Draco's ego, Shacklebolt took out his camera when he caught the boy's eye to let him know he would be taking photographs. And Draco did have his moment of glory. The football came flying through the air in his direction, along with three of the opposing team. Draco jumped up and hit the ball away with his head. It went, purely by luck, straight at his own center who was in a perfect position. Draco received an assist and he was kept as a forward for ten more minutes until everyone realized it was a fluke.

But that was early March. No one else he knew showed for the weekly matches. Except for one occasion. It was two weeks after the game with the assist. Draco had even found his niche. He was very good at defense. Secretly, he liked the idea that it was permissible to run directly at people. The opposing center was charging and Draco came up behind him and kicked the ball away. He also tripped over the center's foot while doing this. As he picked himself up, he glanced at the crowd to see if Moody was there. He wasn't. But for one brief moment, Draco thought he saw a familiar old man with a long crooked nose. He had to turn his attention back to the match, and when he had the chance to look, the figure was no longer there.

And now it was a Monday in the middle of May. He heard Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice as he opened the front door.

" . . .And the Minister is looking at the pictures and asks, "what is football?" I told him it was Quidditch played without broomsticks."

"A close enough description," Moody admitted with a chuckle. "And here is our errant student. Draco, why don't you take a seat."

"Sure, Uncle Al." Draco set his books on a side table and took his usual seat. "Anything new?"

"Nothing at all."

"Are we giving up?"

"He's still using his fancy voice?" Sirius asked.

"His friends understand him better," Moody explained, "and no, we are not giving up. We are changing our approach. Next weekend, we are moving you to Hogsmeade. We can't get your wand, but we can get you into the school."

"But . . . you said all the secret passages were being guarded."

It was Black who answered. "There is one secret passage. I know the guard and I can get us past, but it only goes onto the grounds, not into the school."

"When?" Draco asked. He was not smiling.

"Sunday would be the best day," Moody said. "Everything will be quiet. We can leave easily enough."

Despite the words, every face Draco looked at said that statement was a lie. His frown let them know he saw the lie.

"Why Sunday?"

Moody held up his hand. "Things have been quiet. Too quiet for too long. Something is going to happen and we want to act fast."

"Then why wait?" Draco was angry and he knew he had no reason.

"We could leave right now, boy, but then I'd have to explain what happened to you. If we wait until the weekend, you can be the one to explain."

Kingsley reached over, his hand touching Draco's knee. "We have watched you grow, Draco Malfoy. We want to give you the chance to say goodbye to your friends. Because it will be goodbye. That is worth the extra time we are taking."

* * *

"Why," Draco asked when he found himself alone with Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Hogwarts Express rolling lazily through the countryside.

"Which Why?" Kingsley asked in return.

"The secrecy. Why not tell the Minister?"

"To tell the Minister is to tell other people as well. Draco, you told everyone you were going to talk to Moaning Myrtle. Did you ever talk to her?"

"No"

"Someone heard and stopped you. If we tell, someone might stop us. And we do not know who it is we should not tell. For the time being, Draco Malfoy is a schoolboy in a muggle school. The Minister even has pictures as proof. No one knows to stop you from talking to Moaning Myrtle. This time, no one will stop you." He smiled. "What is your next why?"

"I guess it's why are you helping me?"

Kingsley gave Draco a broad grin. "We are not helping you, Draco Malfoy. We are helping the world. What has been haunting Hogwarts is clearly of ancient origin. Its return at this time is the work of someone evil whom we know now is seeking to return. His hand is in this, I am sure. To let him win is to let everything I hold dear to be crushed into dust and lost forever. As for you, Draco Malfoy, you are the key to our plan. You have the very skill we need if we are to succeed. You are a parselmouth. One of only two that we know of."

"So, that extra week was a bribe."

"No. Not a bribe. We agreed to give you that extra week with your friends because you are twelve years old."

Draco nodded. He was being used again. But, this time at least, they asked him.

Moody came back after a while and sat down. He told Draco there were things they needed to talk about, but Kingsley said it had already been taken care of.

Draco, sitting there wearing his fake glasses and his hair magicked black, said he did have one more question. "Why'd you make me look like a Potter?"

Moody's smiled told him that, since they had to disguise him, they could at least have some fun.

* * *

The three departed the train once they reached their destination. It was then that Kingsley showed his skills. As Black had done with muggles, Shacklebolt was doing with wizards. They walked down the main street of Hogsmeade with no one paying the slightest attention to them. They turned down a side street and the evening crowds grew less. After passing a rundown pub, they were almost alone. As they reached a clearing, they turned and walked overland to a small deserted building. The Shrieking Shack. It was supposed to be the most haunted place in the country. Sirius Black, though, assured them they had nothing to worry about. He gave them his personal guarantee.

And there was where Draco slept, in a makeshift bed in a boarded up bedroom with weird scratches on all the walls and doors. Even the wooden floors boards had gouges in them. The only thing that made him feel better was that his hair was back to its normal colour.

In the morning, he awoke to find himself alone. There were food and a note from Moody to make sure he wasn't seen. There was also yesterday's edition of the Daily Prophet so that He at least had something to read to pass the time.

The main story was about Hogwarts and whether the monster was really gone. The Minister pointed out to the press that since the arrest of the caretaker, Hagrid, there have been no attacks, no disturbances or any suspicious activities on any scale. One of the reader comments scared Draco. The reader suggested that Hagrid knew how to summon the monster and that the government should use _any means necessary_ to make him reveal how he does it. Then the monster could be deliberately summoned so that it can be destroyed once and for all.

Draco sat the paper down. Only a week before he was sitting in history class, not with an old ghost, but a lively young teacher who really tried to get them all interested in . . . something or other. His friends were there. They had won their match over the weekend, and planned to win the next one . . ."

And now he was in an empty shack near Hogwarts. Where people hated him. Where someone had tried to kill him, and may try again. Where every minute of every day he is reminded that his parents were evil. He hated the place and everyone in it. He should just leave and let them all rot. "It's not like any of my friends are really hurt." Draco used his snootiest accent to say that. And it was true. Justin and Hermione would be cured. Even the cat. That article talked about closing the school. Draco didn't care. He didn't want to go there anymore. Everyone else could go home too. Justin and Hermione and . . . Hagrid would stay in prison.

All the other things came back to him. The monster would still be loose. And Voldemort would be in control of it. If Draco did nothing and went back to middle school, it would only be a matter of time before the Dark Lord came after him. Such a man would want to wipe out all of his enemies.

Draco slumped down on the dusty floor and leaned against the wall, wiping tears of frustration from his eyes. He had no real choice. He could either face the trouble and hope for the best, or hide from it as long as possible.


	13. Hogwarts

A/N: I have a cold. I also have a four day weekend. The cold began as I got off work. It should only last four to five days. That means I should be fine on Monday morning. On the other hand, it is a mild cold. It doesn't stop me from eating or anything. And it gave me a great excuse to avoid the relatives for the holiday. (I'm thinking of asking Santa for another cold for Christmas. Heck, knowing my relatives, maybe I'll just fake the flu.)

Just saw the film, August Rush. (Robin Williams is in it.) Oliver Twist meets the 21st century, with a guitar. I could almost believe Charles Dickens was the director. I still can't decide if I liked it, (probably did, because I mentioned it,) but I did like the music. One surprise, though. Having poor eyesight, I misread the cast list. That's why I never figured out which part Kurt Russell had. (To save some of you some confusion, the real actor was KERI Russell.)

C'est la vie.

**Chapter 13: Hogwarts**

Draco was awoken in the night by popping noises from outside his bedroom. This was followed by an argument between Sirius Black and Alastor Moody.

"Damn fool idea. And what did we learn? Nothing." Draco could hear Moody scowling.

Black was laughing. "We learned how big spiders can grow. And how fast you can run."

"And that was about it."

"Alastor, we do know for a fact that Hagrid's monster was not the same one that killed that girl fifty years ago. And if anyone doubts us we can direct him to our source." Black was laughing again.

"That would get rid of our detractors," Moody admitted, then laughed as well. When the laughter ended, he called out, "Draco, are you awake?"

"No. I slept through the whole thing."

"Good. Because Sirius and I just escaped from thousands of giant man-eating spiders and I wouldn't want you to have nightmares about it."

"You're daft," Draco replied, "Why would I dream about spiders when I could have a perfectly good nightmare about two madmen popping into my bedroom in an abandoned shack any time they wanted to."

"I think he's angry," Black said.

"Doesn't matter," Moody replied, "Had no choice. Either wake him up or be eaten alive. Good night, Draco."

"Wait," Draco called out. "You're not leaving just like that. What happened?"

Moody growled. "It was that idiot, Hagrid. Kingsley went to Azkaban to interview him, and the blasted fool told him to follow the spiders."

"Oh, yeah," Draco said as though he remembered.

Two men were now staring at one boy. "Oh, yeah, what?" Moody demanded.

"It was in the book, the one you made me read on magic creatures."

"What was?"

"That spiders run away from it. I guess they all went into the dark forest?"

Moody and Black smiled at each other at the irony. "We didn't need to go into the forest at all," Moody said.

Black disagreed. "We did meet Aragog. And from what he told us, we know Hagrid was innocent of the murder."

"Aragog?"

"Giant spider that Hagrid kept as a pet when he was at school."

"And you talked with it? Is that like Parseltongue?"

"It speaks English." Moody explained. "And yes, we talked with it. It even promised not to eat us."

"It was the only one that promised," Black pointed out, and both laughed again.

"Yer both mad," Draco said in disgust.

"We are," Moody agreed. "We almost died, and lived to tell the tale. But we do know, now, that Rubeus Hagrid is innocent. It will be extremely difficult, but we can prove it."

Draco looked up. "But?"

"Did we ever tell you about Dumbledore?"

"No," Draco said nervously.

"He was removed as headmaster of Hogwarts, because of his bad judgement."

"Beginning of April?" Draco asked.

Moody's voice showed surprise. "You did know?"

"No, but . . . I saw him at one of the matches. Am I his bad judgement?"

"Not all of it, Hagrid was the other half." But Moody's voice faded away. He had started to think about something.

Black took the time to physically walk into the boy's bedroom and up to the bed. The moon light was bright enough to see by. "You are a strange one, Malfoy. Why would Dumbledore take the time to watch you play football?"

"Easy answer. He had the time. He decided to check on one of his bad judgements."

"You're probably right," Black replied. "Curiosity, if nothing else."

There was no noise except for Black leaving the room. A popping noise as the man apparated away.

Draco said into the dark, "Are you leaving, too?"

"I have to," Moody replied. "I need to take the train to Hogwarts, tomorrow. Too many questions will be asked if they find out I'm already here. There is one other thing before I go. The trunk beneath your bed. Along with your clothes, it has one of my invisibility cloaks. You'll need it in the morning. Early."

"Anything else?" Draco asked.

"Try to get some sleep. You need your rest."

* * *

It was still dark when Draco was shaken awake. It was Sirius Black. He had made a light with his wand so that the room was partially lit. His hand covered the top so that the light only shone downward. Any light seen from outside would be investigated.

"Malfoy, get dressed and grab the cloak. Meet me downstairs in what used to be the kitchen."

Draco complied as quickly as possible and as quietly as possible. Every noise he made seemed to echo through the entire building. He carefully made his way downstairs and confronted Black.

"We're going into the school?"

"Do you have the cloak?" Black opened a door inside the kitchen. Lighting his wand again, it revealed a flight of stairs. Seeing the question on Draco's face, he answered. "There's a tunnel down here that leads onto the school grounds. Are you familiar with the Whomping Willow?"

"It's that big tree we're warned to stay away from. It likes to attack things that come near it."

Black smiled as he motioned for Draco to follow him. "This tunnel ends at the base of the Whomping Willow. And I know a spell that will freeze it for about five seconds, enough time for you to run clear. With that cloak, you should be able to sneak inside and find a place to hide until Moody can get there." As they neared the end of the tunnel, Black reminded him. "Remember, do not attempt to visit that ghost until Alastor catches up with you."

Draco laughed. "If I do, you'll know about it. Along with the entire school."

"And keep your voice down," Black admonished. "Now get ready as I cast the spell . . . "

"Professor, a quick question. Why are you helping me?"

"You should have asked earlier. Don't you trust me?"

"Didn't think. I was just curious. After what Pettigrew did, being you're such good friends, I don't trust you. But I trust Uncle Al." He inched toward the opening. "I'm ready."

Black glared at him. "Wait a minute. What did Peter do?"

Mock surprise. "You don't know? Professor Pettigrew personally wrote to that doctor at Saint Brutus about all of my mental problems. I saw the letter. In his handwriting."

"He wouldn't. Dumbledore specifically reminded all the teachers that no comments were to be made about you to any muggles." Black sneered. "And he directed that comment at your Uncle Severus."

"You're right," Draco said callously. "And you can go there to check it out. Make sure there is no evidence."

"I will." Black's voice was harsh.

Draco laughed at him. "I won't tell anyone. I'm tired of being called a liar all the time."

"I will check," Black said with controlled anger. "And I will let everyone know what I find out." He took a deep breath as though remembering where he was. "You need to get going. I've got something to do, now, and I don't want it to wait. Get Ready . . . GO."

Wrapped in the invisibility cloak, Draco ran out of the tunnel until he was clear of the tree. He turned in time to see it unfreeze and begin to sway in the wind again. He looked back at the tunnel but could see no one there. He couldn't even see the tunnel.

Hoping he was completely covered, Draco made his way to the main entrance. There, he hesitated. If someone saw the door open but saw no one enter or leave, they would know something was up. The only option was to wait. But Draco couldn't wait too long. Moody had explained to him that this cloak was not good in direct sunlight. It would cast a faint shadow. Draco decided he had to chance it. He opened the door only as much as he needed to slip in. He let it close softly and slipped into a shadowy corner to wait for any sign that he'd been heard. There was only silence. Satisfied, Draco took a step, and stopped. There was a faint echo to his step, at least as far as he could hear. He stepped again after standing still for another minute. And he stepped as softly as he could.

Slowly, in the early morning quiet, he made his way to the staircase to the upper floors. Then he would search for an empty classroom or a storage room that he could hide in. Someplace as close as possible to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Walking was easier once he reached the top of the stair. The carpets on the floor helped muffle the noise. He made his way to the girls' bathroom and began his search from there. It was a short one. A broom closet, almost empty was just around the corner. As dusty as it was, Draco knew it wasn't being used. It would be perfect for his wait. He closed the door behind him and sat down against the back wall with just enough room to spread his legs. That it was dark was perfect. It meant Draco could go back to sleep.

* * *

Draco was awake in an instant when the light hit his face. He was still squinting when two pairs of rough hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. One pair of hands let go of him as he heard a familiar voice say, "Look, Fred."

"We were going to turn you in," Fred hissed, "but now I want to know why you're here?"

"Why should you care?" Draco snapped.

"Because," George whispered into his ear, "there is no logical reason for you to be here. Yet here you are AND you have an invisibility cloak."

Draco paused. How much could he explain? And even if he could explain all of it, how much would be believed. He decided to try for a boldfaced lie preceded by an unvarnished truth that wouldn't be believed.

"Sirius Black helped me sneak into the school. That cloak belongs to a friend of his. We're getting together later today to hunt Snarks."

"He's lying," George said with authority.

"Yeah, but he's a Malfoy. There's always a bit of truth in every lie."

The twins looked at each other. Then they both cast a quick glance around. Satisfied that no one had discovered them, they hustled Draco into the one place he didn't want to go.

"Don't worry," Fred told him with mock friendliness, "no one ever comes here. This bathroom is haunted."

"By Moaning Myrtle," Draco told him. "She likes to scream and yell at everyone who comes in."

"Then talk fast. Why are you here?"

George leaned into him as well, "And make sure it's the truth. We really do want to know why you're here. And fast."

"Snarks," Draco repeated, his toes occasionally touching the ground. He tried to look at Fred, but he was too close for Draco to focus. Although his anger was clearly visible. He turned to George, whom he could see slightly better, but that made him look even more angry. Then he found a face he could focus on. She was looking at him from between and above the twins. "Hi, Myrtle."

"Having a fight in MY bathroom," Myrtle said loudly.

Fred dropped Draco out of surprise, to which Draco replied, "Ow."

"And what ARE you doing here? ALL OF YOU?"

Draco decided to answer, with his own angry voice. "They thought you might want a companion. They just wanted to torture me first. Okay?"

"We weren't going to kill you," George said.

"Not that we don't want to," Fred added. He turned to Myrtle. "He was thrown out of school for attacking our sister and now he's back. We want to know why." He turned to look at Draco. "Then we'll kill him."

Myrtle giggled. "I would like company. And now I'm curious, too. Why are you here?"

It was too good a moment to pass up. He had to be honest, even if it meant letting the twins know too much. "I wanted to talk to you."

Myrtle laughed at the lie. "And why did you want to talk to Poor Dead Myrtle."

"I'm hunting for your murderer. I think he's back. I think he's the one responsible for all the attacks."

If Draco were in the mood, he would have laughed at the look of surprise on the ghost's face. One of the twins broke the spell by saying, "That's the best lie yet?"

"Stuff it, George," Draco said. "He's also the one that cast the Imperious Curse on your sister." His own look of anger keep them quiet long enough for him to finish. "I had it confirmed by a retired Auror. You ever hear of Alastor Moody?"

"Oh, Him?" Fred laughingly said. "Yeah, we know Mad Eye. We'll run down to London and ask him about it."

"Don't bother," Draco told him in a casual tone. "He'll be here this afternoon to talk to McGonagall about it. He's supposed to pick up my wand. All you have to do is wait a few hours."

"Fred?"

"George?"

The twins were having serious doubts. Everything Draco said could have been a lie but, and it was a big but, Draco HAD snuck into Hogwarts using an invisibility cloak. They stepped back to have a private discussion. Draco knew he had won a reprieve when he was asked, a few minutes later, "Are you sure it was the Imperious Curse?"

Draco nodded. "She was looking at me with a dreamy smile when she was, um, undressing, then she looked shocked, almost like she had just woken up. Moody said I gave him a classic description." He added, with a glance at Myrtle. "When he gets here, you can ask him. And let him know I'll be hiding in that closet."

"Sure," George answered, and handed him the invisibility cloak.

Fred even smiled as he offered to make sure the way was clear.

"You could wait here," Myrtle said politely with an amused smile. "After all, you said you wanted to talk to me. I suppose it would be alright. This one time."

Draco nodded with a sense of relief. Something was working in his favour. And he now had two of his friends back, even if they didn't completely trust him.

The snarls were now a pair of smirks as the twins left Draco alone with Myrtle.

* * *

Draco stood there as the ghost hovered in front of him. She looked to be fourteen or fifteen. She had gangly hair, a bad case of acne which ruined her looks and a thick pair of glasses that seemed to make her eyes impossibly big. And she was smiling.

"What did you want to ask me?"

"I, um," Draco's hand was sweaty. He was embarrassed for some reason. "I wanted to ask how you died."

"Really?" Myrtle sounded pleased. "It was all Olive Hornsby's fault," she told him. "I even haunted her afterward . . . until they made me stop. If she hadn't been teasing me so much, but she was always teasing me . . . because of my glasses and . . ."

Draco made a motion, with his hand, toward his face, as though he too had pimples. "I know. It's something I have to look forward to." He tried to give her a friendly smile and it worked. She smiled in return.

"There's not much to tell, really. I was in here, crying . . . I did that a lot . . . I still do . . . And I heard a boy's voice."

"What did he say?"

Myrtle paused as she thought. "Funny. I don't know. I don't think he was speaking English. But I opened the door to my stall to yell at him." She looked at Draco with sudden sadness. "I died."

Draco watched as a ghostly tear fell down her cheek. He looked down and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Myrtle snorted through her tears. "It wasn't your fault. It was his fault. And I never saw his face. Only . . . huge yellow eyes."

"And that was all?"

"I wish I had more to tell you. After all, you were nice enough to ask."

Draco nodded in return. He said something polite. But now he was expected to say something else. And he couldn't think of anything. There was one thing he did quickly think of. He would be spending most of the day with Moaning Myrtle. "So, um," he shrugged his shoulders, "I used to be in Gryffindor, with Fred and George. What house were you in?"

"Ravenclaw? If nothing else, I was smart." She began to frown. "If I had been smarter, I would have known better than to let Olive get to me. And I would still have been alive." Myrtle sniffled.

"Ugly prats like her always seem to know how to get to you," Draco said angrily. "Like Potter, always making some kind of comment, about anything. Just to irritate me."

His plan worked. Myrtle was smiling again, except now he was frowning. But it did start a conversation. They spent most of the next hour telling each other about all the mean tricks one person or another played on them. Fifteen minutes was spent specifically talking about Peeves, the poltergeist that lived at the school and did its best to torment everyone.

After that, the conversation turned to friends. Myrtle told him about Gail and Jeffrey who would do homework with her. Gail was always wondering why she was in Ravenclaw because she seemed about to fail everything. Jeffrey was a pureblood but was always quiet and keep to himself. He liked Myrtle and Gail because they would never bother him with personal questions. And he loved to talk magical theory with them. They would talk for hours.

Draco laughed and told her about clever clogs Hermione who always seemed out of place in his house. And Justin, the rich muggle kid who came to Hogwarts to discover that, here, he was not automatically one of the elite. Myrtle was intrigued when Draco said they were best mates. She laughed when Draco told her how they first met. Justin had heard all the rumours about Draco. After a chance comment, he became the one to tell those rumours to Draco.

Shortly after that story, Fred and George reappeared. They had been clever enough to think about food, and brought him a bag filled with sandwiches and fruit, enough for two good meals. Fred had to remind him that if it turned out that he lied, this would be his last meal. George smiled as well and asked his own question. What was Draco planning on doing, now that he had talked to Myrtle. Draco shrugged. He would wait for Moody to show up. All of this was HIS plan. Draco was only following orders.

Draco noticed the look the twins gave each other. The question had been a test, and he had passed it. Fred's smile became genuine as he told Draco to keep them informed as they were now part of the team. George added that the authorities didn't take Draco's trunk away right when he left, so the two of them took care of that. Some of the things he had left behind were also in the bag. They added that they would stop back after their last class.

After the twins left, Draco excused himself as he sat on the floor in the corner behind from the door to eat. Myrtle sighed as she thought about the last time she had eaten. Draco pulled out his sunglasses as their discussion turned to favorite foods and both laughed when they discovered they both hated treacle tarts. The glasses went into a pocket and Draco found his deck of cards. He showed Myrtle some of the card tricks he knew. It made conversation easier as they had begun to talk about their childhoods. In all, they were having fun together. It was only a matter of time before Myrtle asked Draco a question he should have expected.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

"No," Draco answered honestly. "Not the way you are. Not that it's your fault. You died too early."

Myrtle looked surprised. "What do you mean by 'too early'?"

"Well, in a year or two your skin would have cleared up. That would have made a big difference. And your hair . . ." he paused, "I don't know . . . maybe that was the style back then, but nobody, at least no girls I know, wear their hair that way anymore. I guess that part's just me."

"At least no girls?"

"Yeah. There's some blokes got hair like that, mostly musicians"

Myrtle's eyes went wide. "You have to be lying."

"You don't have to take my word for it. Can you go into the houses? I know girls are always putting up posters of their favorite stars. You can go look for yourself."

Myrtle nodded at the thought. Draco looked at her pale features and tried to imagine how she would look without all those pimples. He noticed how one of them seemed to disappear behind the frames and laughed at a sudden thought. Myrtle gave him a questioning look that said, Now What?

"Your mum bought those glasses for you."

"How did you know that?" Myrtle was looking straight into Draco's eyes, hovering over his sitting figure.

"They look like they'd be perfect on somebody else."

Myrtle was grinning. "They looked great on her."

They were laughing again. They would almost stop but one of them would look at the other and they would start again. A pause, and all would be quiet, and that was enough to start them off again. Finally they calmed down enough to talk again. Myrtle was still hovering above him. Her face was only a few inches from his.

"Draco, have you ever kissed a girl?"

"Yeah, plenty of times." His palms were sweating again. "You know, pleased to meet you kind of kisses."

Myrtle was giving him one of THOSE kinds of smiles. "But you never kissed a girl just to kiss her."

"Uh . . . No."

"I kissed a boy once. He said he was curious what it was like. But he just pecked my cheek. It wasn't . . . you know . . ."

"Yeah," Draco said quietly. "How . . ."

Draco swallowed the rest of his sentence. He was going to ask how they would do it. How would a boy and girl kiss when one of them was a ghost. Myrtle was watching him, her smile was gone. If anything, she looked as nervous as he felt. And she seemed to know what he was about to ask.

"I suppose we get close enough . . . to touch lips . . . the sensation, you know . . ."

"Okay." The word spoken was barely a whisper. Their faces came closer. Draco pursed his lips for the ghostly kiss and, just before their lips met, he closed his eyes.

**WHAM!!!**

The door to the bathroom slammed open, smashing into the wall inches from Draco's head. Too stunned to react, Draco turned to confront whoever it was that had surprised the two of them at that most embarrassing moment. His eyes focused not on a figure standing before him but on a figure running to the row of sinks along the far wall.

It was Ginny Weasley. She had run into the bathroom so intent on reaching the sinks that she had not noticed either him or Myrtle. If he was surprised, that was nothing compared to what was going to happen next. Ginny called out the phrase, "By my command, Open". But it was not said in English. Ginny spoke in Parseltongue, Snake Language. As Draco watched, the sink Ginny was standing in front of seemed to slip into the floor, revealing an opening. A large pipe? She jumped into the opening and disappeared. The sink rose out of the floor and back into its original position.

In the echoing silence, Myrtle spoke. "For one brief second, I thought that was my father."

Draco pushed the door so that it slammed shut, figuring that if anyone had heard it then they had already heard the door when it slammed open. Keeping a straight face, Draco said, "I thought the same thing."

"That it was your father?"

"No. That it was your father."

* * *

Time was now dragging. Draco had quickly understood what had happened and how serious it was. Regardless, he was still staring at the sink from his position on the floor for a good ten minutes. The first thought to enter his head wasn't his.

"That was the girl who threw the book at me."

Draco nodded numbly. "A book? Deliberately?"

"Well . . . she threw it into the toilet where I spend most of my time." Myrtle paused. "She did come back a couple of weeks later and take it out again."

"What kind of book?" Draco asked.

"That's a stupid question. I couldn't exactly pick it up and read it, Could I?"

"Sorry," Draco said to mollify Myrtle. "I didn't think."

"She's very rude," Myrtle said, expecting an argument.

"You're telling me," Draco agreed. "She's the one who had me thrown out of here."

"You should tell somebody," Myrtle insisted.

"I will, soon. Moody should be at the school anytime now. I don't dare tell anybody else."

Myrtle sighed. "I know what you mean. Whenever I had problems, I always had to deal with them on my own."

Draco nodded. "Like with her. The head boy in our house is her brother. He wouldn't have helped me even if I had any warning."

"We had a stinky Slytherin for head boy. Always polishing apples for the teachers but once they turned their backs, he would turn his as well. Not that he was rich or anything."

"Like that Weasley girl. Barely had more money than me," Draco retorted, "Whole family's poor."

"He was, too," Myrtle noted. "I just remembered . . ." she said with half a smile. "He was poor for the same reason."

"As the Weasleys?"

"No. He was like you. He had to go back to the orphanage every summer." Myrtle was remembering something. "I laughed at him once, for putting on airs, and his face became red with anger. I swear he looked like he was going to kill me. He said I should be afraid to speak his name and he walked away."

Now, Draco was curious. He also had an evil grin on his face which made Myrtle smile. "So, what was his name, so I can be afraid, too."

Myrtle laughed at the way he said that. She was still laughing when she said the name, "Tom Riddle."

"Oh, dear," Draco said, "I am afraid. Afraid I never heard of him."

Myrtle loved him for saying that and, in her sweetest voice, wished he was dead. Draco smiled at the thought that this was the first time someone said it to him and meant it as a compliment.

"Wait," Draco said to himself. "I have heard that name before."

Myrtle was surprised. "Where?"

"Not quite sure. I remember thinking he was rich, like Justin." He felt anxiety build up in him. "Myrtle, could I ask you a big favour? Find Fred and George, find out if Moody's arrived yet. We need him here as fast as possible."

Before Myrtle could speak, Professor McGonagall's voice was heard. It was as though she was speaking through a loudspeaker system. "ALL STUDENTS ARE TO RETURN TO THEIR HOUSES AT ONCE. ALL TEACHERS ARE TO REPORT TO THE STAFF LOUNGE." The message was repeated three times.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. He dragged himself to his feet and brushed his trousers. "Never mind. We'll have to wait."

"YOU have to wait," Myrtle said. "I can go anywhere I want to. What does Moody look like?"

"Easy to find," Draco replied, "Face that looks like it's been in too many fights. Big magic blue eye that can see around corners, and a fake leg that thumps loud every time it hits the ground."

Myrtle nodded. "And while I'm gone. Remember where you heard about Tom Riddle." As a parting shot, she said, "Maybe you read about him?"

"Don't read that much," Draco admitted. He waved uselessly as Myrtle disappeared through the door.

In his head, clear as day, Bellatrix Black spoke to him, "The books I took from my sister. Are you interested?"

Draco nodded as the memory came back, full and clear. "Who'd buy a personal diary and never use it? Tom Riddle, of course." And Myrtle said Ginny Weasley had thrown away a book, then came back for it. He knew he had all the pieces of the puzzle, all he had to do was put them together. He cursed that Hermione had been petrified and hoped that Moody would arrive soon. He listened for the sounds of anyone coming, of any voice regardless of how distant, but heard nothing. He sighed in relief. The monster wasn't coming yet. He still had time.

He approached the sink and stared at it for a while. It looked so normal. Then he spied it. The one difference between it and all the other sinks. It had a snake engraved on the tap. He smiled at the subtleness. No wonder no one ever found the Chamber of Secrets.

The door pushed open and Moody walked in, Myrtle floating behind.

"I GAVE you that cloak to wear. And why are you here in the first place?" Moody's voice was low but he was angry.

"Fred and George found me. They dragged me in here to question me."

Moody rolled his eyes. "And what did you do so that they could find you."

"Nothing. I was half asleep in a broom closet with the lights out. They grabbed me as though they knew I was already there."

"And you smooth-talked the ghost into helping you?"

Draco turned to Myrtle, "He didn't mean that. He's mad at me."

"OH, that makes it all right." Myrtle glared at Moody. "It's obvious you don't need MY help anymore." With that, she disappeared into her stall.

Moody ignored Myrtle. " The entire school is in an uproar. I barely spoke to McGonagall when your ghost appeared. While you were in here having a high old time with your girlfriend, the Heir of Slytherin kidnaped a student and took her into the Chamber of Secrets."

Draco smiled at what he knew Moody's reaction would be. "Ginny Weasley wasn't kidnaped. She is the Heir of Slytherin. And the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is directly behind me." He called out in Parseltongue, "_I command you to open, and to stay open._"

Moody nodded. He was clearly impressed at the demonstration. Behind him, Professor McGonagall gasped in surprise. Draco tried to smile.

"Hi, Professor. Did anyone else come?"

"No, Mister Malfoy. Unless they're sneaking around the way you are. And I regret to inform you that Ginny Weasley is NOT the Heir of Slytherin."

Draco held his ground. "She's a Parselmouth. I knew where the Chamber was because she went to it and ordered it to open. Then she entered it and let it close behind her. Myrtle was also a witness." Draco paused as one of the puzzle pieces fell into place. "Um . . ."

"What?" Moody demanded.

"A book," Draco said. "I gave Ginny a book when we first met. A diary. It had a name on it. Tom Riddle. Myrtle told me he was Head Boy."

Moody nodded. "He was the one who found Rubeus Hagrid with the spider. That's why he was expelled. What was written in this diary? Do you remember?"

"Nothing."

"Alastor," McGonagall said, nervousness in her voice, "It's obvious now that you've been working on this problem. I trust your judgement on what we should do."

Moody nodded as though that was exactly what he had expected to happen. But when he turned to Draco, he also had the look of pride. Someone was listening to him, and not just humouring him. It was obvious that, but for a couple of people, that had not happened in a long time.

"We'll ignore the book for now," Moody said, "We have to make sure what it is we're facing. We're almost positive it's a basilisk."

"It is," Draco said, firmly. "Myrtle remembered seeing it. She didn't know what it was, though."

Moody nodded, and deliberately smiled at Draco. "And how long has it been since Ginny Weasley entered the Chamber?"

"About two hours."

Everyone waited for Moody to decide what to do. He said slowly, "Draco said that the twins knew. They must have let something slip. Which is why their sister fled. I will need to investigate the chamber. Which means I'll have to take Draco with me."

McGonagall objected. "But he's twelve years old."

"And a parselmouth. And the only other parselmouths I know of are a girl of eleven and Lord Voldemort. I don't have much choice in the matter."

"And what should I do?" McGonagall asked.

"You told me you had the teachers waiting. Get an attack group together, as well prepared as you can be, and come back here. We'll try to get word to you within the hour. If not . . . you know what you have to do."

McGonagall did not waste any time. She would have everyone organized to attack the Chamber well before the hour was up. And would probably start early, to be on the safe side.

"Nasty place," Moody said as he looked into the pipe. "Are you ready, Draco?"

"Almost." Draco walked over to the stall with the closed door. "Myrtle?"

There was no response.

"I wanted to say . . . I might die today . . . it could happen . . . either way . . . I'll be back. I promise."

Myrtle's face appeared through the stall door. "You would do that? Stay with me?"

"We're friends," Draco assured her. With a sudden grin, he leaned forward and tried to kiss her on the lips. He smiled at the failed effort. "We'll have to work on that."

"Draco," she called as he turned away. When he looked back, she said, "I do hope you die but. . . I also hope you don't."


	14. The Chamber of Secrets

A/N: Yes, we are getting close to the end. And I do want to thank everyone for continuing to read the story. I've tried to give a reply all of my reviews but I gave up on being timely about it, and I'm sure I've neglected a few. For that I apologize. You spent the time to say something, I should, at the least, acknowledge it.

For those who are curious about Malcolm, I have a week worth of chapters ready to post, and I am prepping the chapters at a rate of two to three a week. I've tried to make each chapter longer, which means the story won't have as many chapters as the book. And I may make changes. For example, I am strongly considering the idea of having a plot in this story. Please note: because it is a Malcolm story the chapters, once I start, will be posted daily.

Good Reading.

**Chapter 14: The Chamber of Secrets.**

Draco followed Moody into the pipe. He regretted it at once. It stank of mold and damp, and death. He fell down the pipe as though sliding down a steep ramp. He reached the bottom to land amid a pile of old bones. Moody was already on his feet and had his wand out.

He was in a cave. The light was enough to make out the rough walls and ceiling, but the smell told him the most. That and the crunch of bones under his feet from long dead rats and other vermin. He carefully approached Moody, trying to figure out what the man was looking at. All he could tell was that it was large and long, although it had a fragile look about it, like a sewer pipe made from parchment. He was almost sure of what the answer would be when he asked his question: "What is it?"

"Snakes shed their skin as they grow," Moody said without emotion. He led the way past the discarded skin which must have been at least twenty meters long. It was only a slight relief when they finally passed it. The snake which shed it was still somewhere in front of him.

"Do you hear anything?" Moody asked in a whisper.

"Only us."

"And me," Myrtle's voice said softly from behind them.

"You followed us?" Draco asked.

"You're hunting whatever killed me. I thought I could help. I mean, I can't die again."

Draco smiled, but it was Moody who spoke. "Thank you for coming. We can use your help."

Myrtle smiled at the polite tone he used, and floated next to Draco as they made their way. No one spoke but Draco felt increasingly uneasy as they went. The only noise was the occasional crunching of the bones beneath their feet.

It was almost a relief when they reached the end. It was a flat wall etched with two intertwined serpents with jewels for eyes, the same colour eyes that Draco had. No one had to tell him that the Chamber of Secrets was on the other side. And he had no idea what he would find.

"Should I tell it to open?" Draco offered. As Moody was in charge, it was for him to say.

Moody started to answer but paused to look at Myrtle. "Miss, may I ask a favour? It could be dangerous."

Myrtle smiled. "Gee, what kind of favour would you want from a girl who can float through walls?" Laughing lightly at her joke, she glided forward. She slowed as Moody admonished her to be careful. No one knew what effect a basilisk would have on a ghost. She nodded to him, then faded into the wall.

Faster than expected, Myrtle returned. Her face showed confusion and surprise.

"Draco," her urgent whisper called, "That boy is in there. And he looks EXACTLY like I remember him. That girl is lying unconscious on the floor and he's standing there . . . watching her. I think he's waiting for her to die."

"Who? Riddle?" Draco's eyes bulged when Myrtle nodded.

"The boy who owned the diary?" Moody asked. "Draco, that book has just become very important. Where did you get it?"

"Aunt Bella asked me if I wanted it. Her sister was trying to give it to the Weasleys but she was so rude she almost started a fight. Aunt Bella took the books away from her and told her to leave." A smile crossed his lips. "Then she told me she was my godmother."

Moody wasn't smiling. "You do understand, Mister Malfoy, that giving the girl that diary may have been the cause of all of this? That little bit of information ties all of the pieces together." His natural eye was focused on Draco, but it was as if he was thinking a deep thought. "And I think I understand what Tom Riddle is doing here."

"Um," Draco began. "You said that the book may be the cause of all of this?"

"I am willing to wager anything that the diary is . . . cursed. And that the curse is activated when you attempt to write in it. That isn't the real Tom Riddle, only a simulacrum. But that may be enough. It's safe to say that Miss Weasley is not the Heir of Slytherin, but she was possessed by him. And I know he had help. Someone who knew what the diary could do."

Moody's eyes both looked directly at Draco. "Our task here is now twice as hard, Mister Malfoy. We have to stop the basilisk and we have to destroy that book." He paused. "And we have to do it now."

"Will that save Ginny Weasley?"

Moody shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know if she can be saved at this point. If we destroy the book, that keeps it from harming anyone else."

"She'll die?"

"She may already be dead."

"Do you want me to look?" Myrtle offered. It was obvious she did not want to.

"Thanks but no, Miss," Moody told her. "Could you do us one more favour? Let them know that we're going into the chamber? I'll have Draco open that door as soon as you're safely away."

Myrtle nodded with relief, smiling briefly when Draco told her he was grateful. She floated away and, once she was out of sight, Moody told Draco to open the door.

Draco sighed. He took a deep breath, paused, then said, "Moody, what would happen if a basilisk saw its own reflection?"

Moody snorted. With one hand he tapped the sunglasses sticking out of Draco's shirt pocket. "I am very interested in finding out."

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out his sunglasses. The ones with the mirrored lenses. He paused. "Couldn't you conjure a mirror?"

"I could, but Riddle could unconjure it if I'm right. We'll try subtlety this time. If it doesn't work, then I'll conjure a mirror."

Draco smiled at the joke. And he did understand. As Moody clasped his shoulder, Draco turned to the door and called open. "_Open by my command._"

The serpents untwined themselves as the wall spit into two and retracted into either side of the cave. Once they had disappeared, the Chamber itself was visible. "Glasses on," Moody instructed, and guided Draco through the entrance.

The Chamber was, to Draco, more like an ornate temple to an ancient god. Tall pillars of stone stood on either side to support the high ceiling which stood above them, covered in darkness. Before them was a once grand aisle, now spotted with mud and mold. And at the far end stood a statue several stories tall. Draco did not need anyone to tell him that this was Salazar Slytherin. And it was possible to see all of this, even with the glasses on, because everything had a sickly green glow. He was also grateful that Alastor Moody was guiding him, because the sunglasses made the ground before him dark in the already dim light. As a result, he could barely make out where to walk. He spent his time watching the figure of the young man standing over the prone Ginny Weasley. It was about the halfway point. Moody began whispering instructions to Draco.

"If there is any sign of the basilisk, close your eyes at once. I'll try to attract its attention so that it comes close enough to see itself. If we succeed, do your best to keep him occupied until help arrives."

"And you?" Draco was curious.

"I can't close both my eyes. I'm hoping, because I'll see it with my left eye, I'll only be petrified. If I'm wrong, it was nice knowing you."

"But . . ." Suddenly this wasn't an adventure anymore. It had become real, and terrifying. "Why don't we wait for help?"

"Trust me," Moody told him. "Time is very important. And if you can destroy that book, it will help greatly. Most likely, you'll have to keep it away from him until the help does arrive." As though understanding Draco's next question, he added, "it's lying next to the Weasley girl. And I already know how to get my hands on it."

They stopped when they were still a fair distance. Moody then spoke loudly.

"Hello, Tom. I see you haven't changed."

Draco couldn't make out Tom Riddle's expression, but his voice held honey and menace.

"Could it be? Little Alastor Moody? You have grown from our school days but you're still as handsome as ever. And you brought your son. How charming."

"You don't mind my calling you Tom?" Moody asked. "I could call you by your new name."

Suspicion. "You know who I really am?"

Moody managed to laugh and snarl at the same time. "It was easy to figure out." He patted Draco's shoulder to let the boy know that the next remark was to be directed at him. When Draco looked up, Moody continued, loud enough for anyone in the Chamber to hear. "It's an anagram of his old name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Now he calls himself Lord Mia Voldemort."

"Stupid first name," Draco laughed.

"YOU DARE MAKE FUN OF ME? I . . . AM . . . LORD . . . VOLDEMORT."

"Temper, temper" Moody admonished. "It's nice to see you can still be easily provoked."

"Forgive me," Riddle said. The honey was gone from his voice. "I should never have let you trick me like that. It won't happen again."

"I know, Tommy Boy. That's why I'm here. I came to take care of you personally."

Draco could tell that Moody had drawn his wand and was pointing it. Tom Riddle was laughing.

"It won't work, Alastor. Whatever spell you use. I'm not really here."

"I'm not interested in you," Moody said calmly, then called out, "Accio Biblio." He let go of Draco to catch the diary as it flew toward him. He promptly handed it to Draco with the admonishment to run with it if needs be.

"How droll," Riddle's voice said. His voice became mocking sadness. "You can't destroy my book, either. It has such a powerful charm on it that doddering old Dumbledore couldn't break it in his prime. But you can hold on to it if it makes you feel better." He called out, in parseltongue, "_Come. It is time to feed._"

Draco looked up at Moody. "He said . . ."

"No need to translate, boy. We're having company. Get ready."

Even Draco could see the mouth of the statue begin to open. The monster was coming. And Draco could hear it clearly.

"_I am hungry. I want to eat. I want to kill._"

"Are you sure about all of this?" Draco asked. His confidence in Moody was fading rapidly as the great snake neared.

"Don't worry. And don't worry about me, either. All you have to do is stop that creature. And if I'm wrong about it being a basilisk, we'll both run like blazes. And if I'm right . . . you'll be seeing Dumbledore before I do. Tell him there's hell to pay." He glanced down at Draco. "And close your eyes."

Draco dutifully closed his eyes. "Your plan will work, though?"

"If it doesn't, you'll have no time to compl . . ."

Draco froze in his place. He knew exactly what had happened. Moody had seen the basilisk with his magical eye and was now petrified. He could almost hear the man saying, "Yes, that proves it"

"One down, one to go," Tom Riddle said cheerfully. He added, in a mocking tone, "Oh, did I say one? I meant two? I forgot about my girlfriend. She was rather fond of me, you know. She told me all of her secrets. She let me grow strong, strong enough to possess her. "

"Yeah, I know the story." Draco was half listening. He was more intent on hearing where the monster was. He could hear it sliding but . . . he began to shout, in parseltongue.

"_Come On, You Fat Worm. I'm Right Here. Look Me In The Eye, You Stinking Smelly Excuse For A Snake._" In the back of his head, Draco wondered if snakes understood about being taunted. He also made a mental note that Tom Riddle was expressing his surprise at discovering another parselmouth. As Riddle was assuring Draco that the serpent would only listen to him, the boy was screaming.

"_LOOK ME IN THE EYE."_

A fetid smell filled the air. Draco gasped and shouted again.

"_LOOK, YOU BASTARD, LOOK._"

A scream of rage erupted from where Riddle was standing. Amidst a garble of words, How and What were the only two that could be made out clearly. Draco dared to chance it, and opened his eyes. He could see nothing but a dark shape. He took off his sunglasses and looked. And laughed. The great snake was close enough he could have reached it in two strides. And it appeared to be made of stone. Petrified. With a touch of humour, Draco thought to himself that it would be best if this one weren't given the restorative potion. His laughter ended with a coughing fit.

"Oh, dear me," Tom Riddle said as he approached. "The laughter was amusing but that cough doesn't sound all that good. And, what's this?" Draco coughed once more into his sleeve as Riddle bent down, and came up holding Moody's wand. Riddle chuckled. "Why, I now have a wand. Isn't that amazing? And you aren't doing anything. I would wager that I could kill you right this moment and you wouldn't try to stop me." He paused. "Or I could cure your cough. Would you like that?" He smiled with genuine mirth. "No, wait, I don't think I can."

With an effort, Draco suppressed his cough, although his throat seemed scratchy. He tried to appear casual as he looked around for the best avenue of escape. Inside, he was cursing himself. Moody had told him more than once. Constant Vigilance. And he had let his guard down for the sake of a good laugh. He glared at the older boy as he tried to think of a way out. Riddle seemed to sense his mood and took a step toward him. Draco made it a point to step backward and away form him. At his third step backward, he bumped into something.

He turned around to see the basilisk. Its mouth open and turned at an angle. It took only a second to understand. The snake was turning its head sideways to swallow him when it finally caught its reflection. That was a mild surprise. In the cinemas, the monster always came from above.

Draco fought back the urge to cough. His chest was beginning to hurt. And Riddle was saying something to him.

"Whot?" The word came out hoarsely.

"Who are you? I'm curious. After all, you know who I am."

"Yeah, met you a couple times before." Draco was staring at the monster. At the mouth. It looked wet.

"You did?" Suspicion mixed with arrogance.

"Once, when I was a kid. Don't remember that." A drop of something oozed out of the beast's mouth. Science class, thought Draco. He remembered the teacher telling them about condensation. Hot breath and cold cave.

"Really?" A touch of amazement. "You are! You're Draco Malfoy. And my friend told me he had arranged to get rid of you." Riddle was gloating. "And here you are. You came back all this way, only to die." He grinned widely when Draco looked up at him. Then he laughed. "And you don't look well at all."

Draco knew he didn't look well. His throat hurt, but he could still swallow without a problem. His chest hurt, but he could still breathe. Not as easily. He knew what had happened. Riddle had hinted at it. The snake. When Draco smelled its breath, he must have inhaled some of its poison. It wasn't affecting him as quickly as if he had been bitten. Because it was diluted by the air. That meant that his death would be slower. And there would be much more pain.

"There's no cure," Riddle told him.

"So," Draco asked. "You said he helped you. Which teacher was it?"

Riddle still had his grin in place. "Which teacher?" He put his finger to his lips. "Let me see? Severus? No, I don't think he knows anything about the diary. And that would leave . . ." He waved his hand to dismiss the matter. "No, I don't think I'll tell you. I want you to die in ignorance. But . . . I'm not completely cruel. It wasn't a teacher. Any more questions while we wait?"

"Don't you want your book back?" Draco rasped. He tried to sound sarcastic, but it came out roughly, as though he was spitting the words out, which he was doing. He stood there, trembling, holding the book with both hands.

"I'll wait until you die. Not that I'll need it anymore."

It was funny, Draco thought as he shook his head. He understood what was happening, although he didn't know all the reasons why. Voldemort was trying to restore his body. He was doing so by means of the cursed Diary. Once his victim died, he would be whole.

"Ginny dead yet?" The words were an effort. Breathing was more difficult and his whole body was beginning to ache as the blood distributed the poison.

"Almost."

That was what Draco needed to know. His last act would not be a useless gesture. He swung his hands with all his remaining strength. The book hit one of the fangs of the basilisk, moist with poison, and was pierced by it. A scream from Tom Riddle gave him added strength. He swung again as hard as he could and the book lodged itself onto the large sharp tooth.

Draco turned to look at Riddle, who looked like he was in as much pain as Draco was. He could not keep his eyes on other boy as he was now falling, all of his strength gone. He did hear Riddle try to shout a spell. With satisfaction, he heard the sound of wood hitting stone as Moody's wand landed on the floor of the Chamber.

Pain laced through his body. Every part of him hurt. He vaguely heard Ginny Weasley say something but he was in no condition to acknowledge her or even to feel a bit of satisfaction that he had saved her life. His only thought was that he wished he were already dead.

Someone grabbed his arm and forced him on his back. Draco screamed. He didn't know it was possible to feel even more pain. Then he choked. Something had been thrown into his mouth. As a reflex, he swallowed.

It was as though someone had turned off a switch.

He laughed. Draco couldn't stop laughing. The sudden absence of pain made him feel so good that he couldn't do anything else. He felt someone try to pull him to his feet. He could move freely. He opened his eyes and his laughter went to a new level as he hugged Uncle Severus with all his might.

"Phoenix tears," Professor Snape was telling someone. "The only cure. I don't know about the euphoria."

"It's probably the relief," McGonagall said from behind. When Draco had calmed down enough to where he was only grinning madly, she suggested that the two children be led out of the chamber.

"She's . . ." Draco began to ask.

"Wishing she were dead," Ginny Weasley said from behind him.

"I know the feeling," Draco said jokingly as Professor Snape pushed him toward the exit. Draco stopped when he saw the Professor bend down and pick something up. He looked at his reflection in the mirrored lenses then held them out.

"Yours, I presume."

"Very useful," Draco said gleefully, as he took the sunglasses and put them in his pocket. As Snape led him and the sullen girl from the Chamber, Draco couldn't help himself. "You know, we could take the basilisk and put it out on the lawn. That Whomping Willow might like something to play with."

"I'll mention it to the headmaster," Snape said dryly.

"Mention what, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. He was standing at the entrance, breaking into a smile when Draco stopped to stare. "The board asked me to return when they found out about Miss Weasley. They thought I was the best man for the job. But it seems I wasn't needed." He looked past Draco into the chamber and his smile faded.

Draco couldn't help himself. He was still in too good a mood. "Hey, Albus. Uncle Al told me to give you a message. There's hell to pay."

He had to laugh at the headmaster's reaction. Dumbledore was clearly shocked that a student would dare to be so familiar. Draco didn't even mind that Professor Snape pushed him out of the Chamber for his rudeness.

Snape's wand was out and he was now leading the way through the cave back to the pipe. Ginny walked in the middle as they slowly made their way. It was enough time for Draco to calm down. As he did, he became aware of his surroundings. The first thing he realized was that he was wet from head to toe. He could barely see his hands in the dim light but they looked as though they had been stained. He would find out soon enough. Once . . . he thought of a question.

"Sir, how do we get out? The pipe is too steep to climb up. And it's not too clean, either."

"Professor Flitwick is waiting for us. He has our means of travel."

"A portkey?"

"No. A phoenix. The same one whose tears you drank." Snape looked back. "It is the only known cure, by the way. Please act out of character and show this creature some respect."

"Where'd he get a phoenix?"

"It belongs to the headmaster."

A light appeared ahead of them. Professor Flitwick held his glowing wand aloft. And Draco saw something else. A scarlet bird shining with its own light. As he walked up and could see the bird close at hand, he whispered, "you're beautiful."

The phoenix, looking at him, bowed its head in acknowledgment. A second later, the bird had left its rocky perch and Professor Flitwick was shouting at them to join hands. Draco grabbed Ginny's hand and she grabbed Snape's hand. The Professor reached out and grabbed the phoenix by the tail.

Draco felt as light as a feather and laughed as they began to fly up the pipe. He even saw Ginny smile at the experience. And all too soon, it was over.

They were standing in the girls bathroom with two teachers and Mister Filch staring at them. At him. Filch spoke.

"Merlin's beard. I've never seen such a mess. And you're going to track it through the halls, I'll bet."

Draco heard a familiar laugh. Moaning Myrtle was floating over her stall, her hand over her mouth. When she saw him look up, she pointed to one of the mirrors. Draco turned and looked. His blond hair was stained black with ink. Two bright spots, where he must have wiped his eyes, were the only clean spots, relatively speaking, on his face. Between the ink and the slime and the muck, a small bone could be seen stuck to his cheek.

Draco looked down. His clothes were also filthy, but not as bad as he expected. He saw Professor Snape watching him and knew why. There was a Draco sized stain all over the front of the man's robes. Draco tried to suppress a grin as he said, "Sorry about that."

Snape waved the apology away. "Despite Mister Filch's objections, we'll let you get cleaned up. We have time enough. Dumbledore will want everyone meeting in his office once they are done."

One of the other teachers, Snape said it was Professor Vector, led Ginny away while Draco was led in the other direction. In short order he was shown to the prefects bathroom and assured that clean clothes would be waiting for him when he was done. Before Snape left, he paused, his face unreadable. He started to say something, then stopped. "I'll collect you when you are ready."


	15. Victory

A/N: The story is drawing to a close, I must admit. Only one more chapter to go. And I have failed, once again, to respond to any of my reviews. I apologize, like I do every week. I will make an effort to correct this. I might even succeed.

**Chapter 15: Victory**

Draco let himself soak in the hot water for as long as he dared. It was wonderful to relax and not have any cares. All was right with the world. In a few hours, everyone who was petrified would be restored. Even Filch's cat. There would be a celebration. One of the teachers had made the comment once they understood what happened.

"I do hope you're clean after all this time," Professor Snape commented as he opened the door. He gave a mock glare as he set a pile of clothes on the table where the towels were. "You have fifteen minutes."

Draco raised himself from the tub, all clean and wrinkly, and grabbed one of the towels. As he dried himself, he noticed the clothes that had been set out for him. They were his school clothes. It was with a sense of pride and a fair bit of smugness that he dressed, making a point to put his school tie in his pocket. He was combing his hair when Professor Snape returned for him.

They passed almost no one on the way to the Headmaster's office. Only Filch mopping the last of Draco's dirty footprints from the stone floors. Professor Snape explained that most of the students were already back in their dorms for the night. When he asked why, he found out it had already gone nine.

"How long was I in the bath?"

"Only an hour and a half."

"But it was, what, not even Two when Moody showed up."

"Closer to Five," Snape pointed out.

"Cor."

Draco was happy that no one would ask him what he was doing in the girl's bathroom all that time.

They reached the gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office, and Snape gave the password: Lemon Drops. The gargoyle stepped to let them pass. They made their way into the office and Draco stopped. A sense of dread filled him as he saw who was there. That Black and Shacklebolt would be present was of no surprise. Neither was Dumbledore's presence. It was his office. But off to one side stood Ginny Weasley, her parents standing behind her. The twins stood on her right. Ron and Percy on her left. And none of them were smiling.

Draco's pride faltered. He was forced in a position that he did not want to be in. After what he had accomplished, everyone would have a new opinion of him. And that opinion would go back to what it was because of what he was about to say. He walked up to them, his head bowed.

"I'm sorry. It was all my fault." He gritted his teeth as he said the words that would bring his doom. "I'm the one who gave Ginny the diary."

"Oh," Mister Weasley replied. He said it as if Draco had mentioned that it was starting to rain. "And you knew what the diary was when you gave it to my daughter?" He still had the same calm tone.

"Well . . . no."

"Oh." The same mild tone. "Did you know what it was when you destroyed it?"

"Um, yeah."

"There it is, then." Mister Weasley smiled. "It seems to me you made a mistake, and set it to right when you discovered it. I can't fault you for that." He smiled. "I will have a few words to say to your Godmother, however. You told Ginny that she gave you the diary."

"Sir . . ." Draco remembered what Arthur Weasley thought of Bellatrix Black. "Truth is, she asked me if I wanted it. I took it because she said she would only throw it away. I don't think she knew what it was, either."

The smiled faded. "And I suppose you will want to defend her sister as well."

Draco had to grin. "You mean the bitch who sent her house elf after me and Hermione at the Quidditch match? I'd wager anything she laughed when she found out what happened."

Arthur Weasley's smile was back. They both knew they had at least one thing in common.

"I appreciate you telling me all of this, Mister Malfoy. Not that Ginny won't be punished any less for it."

"I always told her," Missus Weasley noted, "never to trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

"Draco." It was Professor Dumbledore. "Miss Weasley had already explained how she came by the diary. No one here was faulting you for your part in it."

"Then I didn't have to apologize?"

"Think of it as practice," someone said.

"In case you really have to, someday," someone's twin brother added.

Draco cast a glance at the potions professor and frowned when he saw the man discreetly holding his hand over his mouth. Even he thought the remark funny.

Dumbledore was smiling at him with an understanding look. "If you don't mind, could you tell us what happened in the Chamber? All of us are curious as to the particular turn of events. Sirius and Kingsley have already told us that they managed to sneak you into the school, although they were vague about the particulars. I won't bother to ask you because I know of your forgetful nature."

Draco smiled at the joke, and at the thought of relating his success. But he also omitted telling a few things. Particularly what happened while waiting for Alastor Moody to show up. He mentioned, hesitantly, that he was a parselmouth. He was waiting for a reaction similar to Sirius Black's when he had found out. Instead, Molly Weasley gave a light laugh and said, "It's a lucky thing for us." Mister Weasley then revealed that they had already been told, and had time to adjust to the news.

And so, Draco went into his tale. Traveling down the pipe and through the tunnel. Moaning Myrtle peeking into the Chamber. Walking into the Chamber itself. Everyone laughed when he told them about the anagram of Voldemort's name, and how Moody had said it. They became quiet after that when he told them about the encounter with the basilisk and how Moody let himself be petrified. Lastly, he told them of the final confrontation and his collapsing in pain.

"I apologize, Sir," he told Dumbledore, "for being familiar with you."

"There is no need," Dumbledore replied easily. "The relief from such pain would have made anyone giddy."

"More practice," George said.

"He's getting good at this," Fred added.

"Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said. "I should inform you, officially, that you have not yet been reinstated. As a result of new information that has surfaced, information which absolves you of any and all wrongdoing, it should only be a matter of a day or two. When that happens, I will return your wand. Until then, your presence at the school will be required . . ." He paused as though trying to think of a reason. ". . . in case there is a need to ask you any more questions."

For Draco, this was another accomplishment. His name would be cleared and his reputation set to rights. The grin was back. It faded at once.

"Headmaster," Professor McGonagall said as she opened the door to his office, "They've arrived."

Narcissa Nott entered, her two sons and her house elf in tow. Narcissa was followed by Bellatrix Black and her human house elf, Casper. Narcissa smiled kindly at everyone. Even Draco. And she apologized.

"I should have been here, sooner, Albus. I did apparate to Hogsmeade at once, but," she put a loving hand on Theodore's shoulder, "I decided I should check on my children's welfare, first." She made a gesture toward Draco with her free hand. "Is it true that he now qualifies as a hero?"

Draco missed out on Dumbledore's reply because he was grabbed from one side and spun around. His godmother was there, kneeling down to be at eye level. Casper was standing as close to her as he could. She wanted to know: Did he kill a monster? Casper didn't even wait for an answer. He wanted to know what kind of monster. Both were clearly surprised when he told them. Bellatrix asked how, and Draco pulled out his mirrored sunglasses.

That was when Bellatrix Black did the one thing Draco never expected. She grabbed Draco and hugged him. "You are brilliant in your simplicity, young man."

"You know what happened?"

"Generally speaking. You snuck back into the school, found the Chamber of Secrets, destroyed the monster, then destroyed the diary I gave you when you found out it was cursed."

"Yeah," Draco said casually. "I did all that." It was worth it to see Casper's eyes bulge.

"The diary was cursed?" Casper asked. "Thanks to Merlin, Mother said I didn't need one." Then followed a question with underlying eagerness. "Do you know who cursed it?"

"Voldemort," Draco said with authority.

"NEVER," Narcissa Nott yelled at this point, bringing everyone into the main conversation. Bellatrix guessed, with amusement, that her sister had been informed of the same thing. As they listened to Narcissa insist that she had no knowledge of the nature of the diary, Bellatrix asked Draco how he knew. He related again how Moody knew Tom Riddle and that Voldemort's name was an anagram. As Arthur Weasley accused Narcissa Nott of deliberately planting the diary, Draco was telling his godmother what Moody's version of the anagram was. Thus, as Narcissa insisted that she be treated with respect, her sister started laughing.

Two men, James Potter and Frank Longbottom, entered the office at that time. Draco heard Potter say, "I think we came at a good time."

"It pays to plan ahead," Bellatrix whispered to Draco as she stood up. "Dwelling on that diary is the wrong way to go about things, Cissy. We can keep yelling 'No, I didn't, Yes, you did', all night long. You are forgetting something." She nodded her head to indicate the sullen house elf. "You have the proof of your good intentions."

"Proof?" Arthur Weasley asked with a sneer.

"We definitely came at a good time," Longbottom said to Potter.

"Yes, Arthur," Bellatrix answered. "Proof. Although lack of humility forces me to admit it was my idea. Cissy, you couldn't have forgotten why I told you to bring your house elf. Have him explain what he did, as far as Draco is concerned. He did do those things because YOU ordered him to."

Narcissa looked at Dobby as though she had not known he was there, but there was now a glint in her eye. "Dobby, tell everyone what your mistress ordered you to do."

Dobby smiled and gave a quick glance in Draco's direction before turning toward Dumbledore and the Weasleys. "Dobby was ordered to keep a watch on Draco Malfoy and to keep him safe."

"And what did you do?" Narcissa and Bellatrix were exchanging grins. Draco looked like they were happy their plan worked.

"Dobby rescued Draco Malfoy from that school where he was locked up and took him to Alastor Moody."

"May I ask why?" Dumbledore was being extremely polite.

Narcissa told Dobby to answer. Dobby explained that Draco had specified someone crazy and useless. "And Mistress said . . ."

"We don't need to know what I said," Narcissa said hastily, then added, "I was repeating what I had heard the minister himself say."

Dobby also pointed out that he had made the doctor give Draco too much of the drug so it would not have the desired effect. Draco resisted the urge to shout at the elf for almost killing him. Dobby then told of letting Draco listen in on the conversation between Black and Pettigrew. And when the house elf explained that he had told Draco about the curse on his broom, and cast the cushioning charm when Draco forgot what he was told, the entire room erupted in laughter. If it were possible, one blond haired boy would have strangled one helpful house elf. Lastly, Dobby pointed out that he had cast the spell blocking the entrance to Platform Nine 3/4 so that Draco would not be given with the diary.

"But I already had the diary," Draco pointed out.

"Dobby will punish himself at once."

"Wait." It was Theodore Nott. "Dobby, you knew what the diary was?"

"Yes, Master Theodore. Dobby could sense the evil in the diary."

"And why didn't you tell anyone?"

"No one asked Dobby, Master Theodore."

Draco counted seven adults putting their hands to their foreheads.

"Before anyone makes a comment," Narcissa Nott said evenly, "first explain to me how I was supposed to know to ask my house elf if an old book was cursed."

"A valid point, Narcissa," Dumbledore admitted, "and we must give you the benefit of the doubt, as long as there are no more incidents." He added in a dismissive tone, "Thank you for your time."

Satisfied, the woman turned to her house elf. "Dobby, do you like Draco Malfoy?"

"Y-Yes, Mistress."

"Then your punishment is that you are to have no more contact with him so long as you are my servant, without my specific permission."

The look on Dobby's face told Draco that the elf considered it to be a punishment. Dobby then disappeared when his mistress ordered him to go back to her manor. Narcissa Nott was smiling again as she spoke.

"I think that settles all of the business I have with anyone here." She was smiling when she said, "Goodbye, Draco."

"You're not mad at me?" He curled his lip.

Narcissa gave a sarcastic laugh. "Why should I be mad at you, dear boy? Or are you thinking of my reaction when I first saw you in Diagon Alley? I assure you that was because of your resemblance to your father. Your father DID wrong me." She sighed. "And I've already had the best revenge against him that I could possibly want. And the wonderful part about it is that he'll never know what it is."

Bellatrix Black left with her sister and family, commenting that all of this was the fault of marrying that horrible old man. Narcissa assured her that the marriage was worthwhile, casting a glance back at Draco while she said it. James Potter politely held the door open for them, closing it firmly after they left.

"Did she forget about you?" Draco asked.

"She does that all the time," Casper answered. "Mother assumes I'll automatically follow her." He smiled. "I'm amazed at how much I can get away with."

Potter and Longbottom walked up to Dumbledore and assured him that everything was now secure. Longbottom also noted that the restorative potion was ready. He added that he had a reply from the Minister and that Rubeus Hagrid has been released and is being returned to Hogwarts. He would hopefully be back before morning.

Draco, now standing to one side with Casper, was feeling giddy again. After all this time, he would be together with his friends. All of them. They would break the rules and all eat together whenever they wanted.

Dumbledore was assuring the Weasleys that he would do everything he could. Arthur Weasley told him he had already done a great deal and they should be going. The headmaster suggested they stay for the feast, preparations were already being made. They, too, made to leave, stopping as they passed Draco.

"Thank you," Molly Weasley insisted on saying. Draco took a half step backward and said, "You're welcome." He had the distinct feeling that she wanted to hug him. He didn't mind one hug when everyone else was distracted, but not another one while everyone was watching. Molly noticed his reaction and stopped herself, barely, from stepping forward. "I'll embarrass you later, dear."

"Very brave thing you did," Arthur Weasley told him.

"He is in Gryffindor," Percy the Prefect noted with pride.

Ginny gave him a shy smile. Ron playfully punched his shoulder, telling him, "Good job, Mate." Fred and George told him to hurry up. They wanted to hear all about what happened . . . in the girl's bathroom. "He was in there for eight hours with Moaning Myrtle," Fred explained to his mother as they exited the office.

Draco's look at Casper told the younger boy not to say anything but it did not remove the smirk.

"Sir," Draco dared to ask. The group of remaining adults looked at him, although none of them were smiling. "I was curious. How are they involved?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said softly, "I do not think it appropriate to say more than that they are peripherally involved."

Draco nodded. He would ask Hermione what peripherally meant. "You don't want Cas to hear?"

"No, I don't want Casper's mother to accuse me of kidnaping him. And," this time his look took in the teachers and the Aurors in his office, "there is something else of importance that I do need to discuss. Something that is not for his ears or yours. If I could ask you to escort Master Black to the entrance. You are sure to meet his mother on the way."

"Sir." Draco waited for the headmaster to nod his head. "I understand there is going to be a celebration feast?"

"At midnight, which is," Dumbledore looked at his pocket watch, "little more than an hour away."

"Could I ask them to stay?" He knew the answer everyone wanted to give. "They're my family, after a turn. And I am the hero of the hour."

"A wonderful suggestion," Dumbledore said without sarcasm. By way of apology, he added, "I should have thought to do that, myself."

"C'mon, Cas," Draco said cheerfully. "Let's see if I can make you sick again."

"I hope so," Casper replied in kind as he followed Draco from the office.

* * *

"A lot of people are here," Draco noted as the two boys made their way through Hogwarts' halls.

Casper smiled. "We were visiting Aunt Cissy when we heard about the kidnaping. Uncle is on the board of governors, you know. Even now they're having a big meeting. He was upset that they asked Dumbledore to come back. Uncle doesn't like him. But then we heard they found the Chamber and rescued the Weasley girl. That's when Aunt Cissy was asked, told really, to come here." He added, in surprise, "We never even knew about the diary, you know, being cursed and all."

Casper's look said he hoped Draco would agree. Draco responded with an ironic smile.

"You're right about that, Cas. None of us knew."

"Draco? Do you think Will would like to be in Slytherin?"

"Thought the two of you decided on Hufflepuff."

"Yeah . . ." There was doubt in Casper's voice. "But Slytherin IS a better house. And I thought that since Professor Snape is in charge and . . . you know . . . you could ask Will."

Draco stopped and looked at the younger boy. "Casper, if you don't want to go through with your plan, just tell Will you had a change of heart."

"But . . ." the words came out in a rush, "He'll think I caved in to mother, again."

Draco almost laughed. That one line told him how the friendship between the two had been going. He didn't need to know any of the details. But Casper was worried.

And why should I care, Draco thought. His mother made it obvious that she and her sister knew the purpose of the meeting and had arranged things so that they appeared innocent. Which meant nothing by itself. They could as easily be innocent as guilty. But that didn't make Draco responsible.

"Draco?"

"I'll take care of it," he said absently. "Don't say anything though. We can take care of the smaller details on the first of September. On the train."

"Thanks, really, Draco. I'll tell Mother it's taken care of, then?"

"Sure. It's not a problem." Draco gave the younger boy his best smile. He would wait three more months before he let Casper know he wasn't going to do a damn thing about it.

As they reached the staircase which led down to the Great Hall, Bellatrix Black was walking up. With her was Simon Nott, the older Slytherin. Casper immediately broke into a nervous smile and blurted, "They noticed me at once and refused to say anything."

"You're not a spy, Casper, and I know you wanted to talk to Draco. You must really learn when to make excuses."

"Think of it as practice," Draco told Casper. He then turned to Bellatrix. "Aunt Bella, Professor Dumbledore said I could ask if you would like to stay a bit. There's going to be a celebration."

Bellatrix pondered the thought. One eye was on Draco, the other on her son who was staring at her with an unbridled plea on his face. "I'll let Cissy decide. She's taking Theodore back to Slytherin House. Come. Casper. You can see where you'll be staying next year."

"Aunt," Simon said quickly. "There is a problem. Draco is not permitted to be alone in the halls. He has an 'active' enemy' within Hogwarts."

"Such a likable boy? I find that hard to believe."

"Someone needs to stay with him."

Bellatrix paused, then shrugged her shoulders. "If you don't mind then, I can find my way. I assume Slytherin is still in the same place. And I will need the password."

Simon leaned over and whispered in her ear. Bellatrix nodded and led Casper away, leaving the two students at the top of the stairs.

They spent the first minute staring at each other, until Simon thought of something to say.

"I've already heard most of what happened. Congratulations are in order."

Draco was wary. "You heard? How?"

"The ghost, Moaning Myrtle. Apparently she made the rounds to all the bathrooms letting everyone know what happened. I told mother and Aunt Bella everything I heard."

"Then the entire school knows."

"I wouldn't be surprised. A warning, though. She also mentioned how you opened the Chamber. Everyone also knows you're a parselmouth. Being Slytherin, I have no problem with it, but for other houses . . . well, You Know Who is also a parselmouth. That may make others question your reasons for what you did."

Draco swallowed hard at the thought. Those who disliked him would be telling others that the future Dark Lord gave the present Dark Lord another setback. Put that way, some might even prefer to deal with Voldemort than deal with him. Simon noticed and seemed to understand his look.

"Our family will stand by you, of course. And I imagine the Weasleys will as well. That gives you support from opposite ends of the playing field. It will make some people hesitant to believe the rumours." Footfalls were heard from a staircase to the upper floor. "Someone's coming."

Draco paused at the remark. Simon smiled. "If they're suitable to you, I'll leave you in their care. I've enough time to get back to Mother before the feast begins, you understand."

Both Draco and Simon looked in mild surprise at the boy who came into view. William Potter. Draco shook his head. "I think you need to leave him in my care."

Simon laughed politely as he waved for the other boy to come over. "I'm off, then. And Draco, I don't think we'll have a chance before the end of the school year, but I think we should make it a point to know each other better. If we can't get together over the holiday, then definitely when we return next term."

"I'd like that," Draco admitted. They shook hands and Simon left to return to his house.

Draco turned to William, who had politely stopped and waited, his head down.

"You missed Cas by about ten minutes?"

"I don't care." He looked up. "You're not going to make me go back?"

"Back where?"

"Mum's up in Gryffindor, doting on her little Harry again."

"And where were you off to?"

William shuffled his feet. "Nowhere. I put on a big smile and asked if I could go down early to the Great Hall." He shrugged. "Thought I'd walk around outside awhile. Until things got started. Half thinking of just running away. Nowhere to go, though."

Draco walked down the stairs with him. "I talked to Cas. He told me that your friendship isn't going too well."

William snorted. "He's almost a house elf, the way he acts. You remember how we agreed to go to Hufflepuff. He's done everything short of asking me to go to Slytherin instead."

This time Draco snorted. "I know. He asked me to do that. He knew I'd convince you."

"And you said you'd do it?"

Draco nodded. "It was easier than listening to him whine if I said no." William smiled for the first time. Draco added, "I'm going to let him know the truth when we take the train to school next year."

They were by the great doors that led outside when William sighed. "Thanks. For telling me about Casper. I even feel better."

"I'm glad I could help."

"And," his smile faltered, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"For what?"

William looked surprised. "About Alastor Moody."

Draco frowned. "What about Moody?"

William's look turned to horror. His voice was rushed. "I . . . I thought you knew?" He pushed open the door and bolted outside as quickly as possible. As the door slowly swung closed, Draco heard a sob come from the other boy.

* * *

"I thought you knew."

The words hung in the air. What did William think he knew? What was it about Alastor Moody? A feeling of dread rose inside Draco even though he knew it was unfounded. He knew there was nothing wrong. Moody always planned everything out, made sure of every detail. He would even verify the smallest detail despite no one being in doubt. But . . .

Draco was running even before he thought about it. To the infirmary. As the first students were arriving at the Great Hall, he was going in the other direction as quickly as he could. The dread, the doubt, was growing stronger. Every bit of memory seemed to increase it. McGonagall insisting he leave the chamber. Dumbledore's smile fading as he looked past him. Dozens of other details. The way Snape looked at him in the prefects bathroom. Arthur Weasley's calm smile. All meaningless yet fraught now with omens.

The infirmary was locked. He banged on the door, loudly and continuously until someone answered. Madam Pomfrey stood there. Hermione was just behind, but Draco ignored her.

"I want to see Moody."

Tears were forming in his eyes but he held them back. The sadness that came over Madam Pomfrey told him the one thing he didn't want to believe. Slowly, the words came from her lips.

"We placed him in a nearby room. I'll take you there."

Pomfrey said something to Hermione that Draco did not hear. Her smile gone, Hermione turned and went back inside. And Draco walked with the woman who held his shoulder in a gentle but firm grasp. They came to a familiar room. The door was opened. Draco walked in, alone.

Moody was lying there on a bed, a look of unexpected shock on his face. Someone had closed his normal eye. The magical eye stared at the ceiling; no intelligence remained to direct it. The hand that Draco grabbed had already gone cold. He let go. Sinking to his knees, his hands now covering his face, he tried to cry but the tears so willing before had gone. Something clutched at his chest. His own hand? Compulsively, he gasped, taking in a great amount of air. His head bent backward and he let out a mournful howl that echoed through the open door and the corridor outside. Finally, the tears came. Draco knelt there wishing, not for death, but for oblivion. It would have been better never to be than to live this moment.


	16. Defeat

A/N: And we are at the end of another story. I always have mixed feelings. I'm glad it's done with, but I'll miss it as well. Until the next story, then.

**Chapter 16: Defeat**

Draco never went to the Great Hall.

He could never tell anyone how he did it but he ended up sitting on a low wall that looked out over the grounds. He could hear, faintly, the celebration that was going on. The noise became louder when someone opened the doors to the outside. It was inevitable that someone would find him.

Anyone could have been standing there. A friend. A stranger. Madam Pomfrey. Dumbledore. When Draco turned his head, his tears done with, he was looking at a girl he vaguely recognized, a friend of Ginny Weasley. She had a wistful smile as she fingered strands of her long dirty blond hair.

"You know, I remember watching my mother die."

They looked at each other for most of a minute. The smile on her face never wavered. She pointed at an odd looking horse at the edge of the forest.

"They're called thestrels."

Then she turned and went back inside.

Some time later, Madam Pomfrey appeared. She invited Draco to spend the night in the infirmary where he would not be disturbed. By then, he was too tired to object

* * *

Draco ate his breakfast because he was hungry. He had dressed already by the time his first visitor appeared. The headmaster.

"I owe you the strongest apology," Dumbledore told him. "Everyone thought you were aware of what had happened. Had I realized, I would have handled things differently."

"He confided in you." It was a statement. "Why did he do it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "The diary was a greater danger than you realize. But for your actions, Voldemort would have restored himself and he would have been in a position to wreak havoc on the school. Killing the basilisk took from him a powerful weapon, but his skills as a wizard combined with our ignorance of his presence would have led to who knows how many deaths. Alastor sacrificed himself because he saw in you a chance to stop the beast and, I'm sure he hoped, to delay the Dark Lord until help could arrive." He smiled kindly. "That you destroyed the diary, as well, made his death a small price to pay by comparison.

"Draco, Alastor always thought out every thing he did. It is to his credit, and yours, that he placed such faith in you."

"But . . ." Draco didn't have to ask his next question. He had already figured out the answer. He believed Moody when the man told him that he would be petrified, that he would only see the basilisk through his magic eye. Moody's eye enhanced his vision. The man knew, before they even entered the Chamber, what the end would be.

"Did everyone have a good time?" There was anger in his voice.

"At the feast? The exceptions were more noticeable. Quite a few of the teachers. Your friends. They knew you had been hurt by what happened. Not physically. But in your heart. I fear Madam Pomfrey was the only one to think to look outside for you, and not until after the feast was over. We did not want you to be alone."

"I wasn't," Draco said softly as he thought of the girl.

"You had company?"

A memory came unbidden. "Too much company."

"I don't understand?"

A laugh came from Draco's throat, although there was no humor in it. "That's a good thing. You know what would be best, Albus? If no one understood."

Draco couldn't describe it. The look Dumbledore gave him spoke more to him than a volume of words. He knew. He knew in his heart what Draco was feeling. And he knew that there was no more to be said. Draco had lost a good friend. He had grieved for him and wept unashamedly until there were no more tears. And he had come to terms with the fact that Alastor Moody would never be there for him again.

Next, they were sitting at a table, and the headmaster was pouring cups of tea, for the two of them and Madam Pomfrey, who had joined them. The talk was now about other matters.

Draco would remain at the school until the end of the term, even though he was not yet a student, again. He would even have his old bed in Gryffindor. Other visitors would be by shortly to see him. And he would have plenty of time to talk with them. As a gift, all school tests had been cancelled for the rest of the year, except for the N.E.W.T.'s and O.W.L.'s. As a result, few students would be spending their time in meaningful study.

The conversation touched on the incident with Ginny Weasley. Dumbledore said that Moody was correct. The girl had been the victim of the Imperious Curse, although there was no clue as to how it had happened. A fact that troubled him deeply. Madam Pomfrey admitted to Draco that she had advised him not to say anything in his interview, in hopes that those involved might make some mistake and show their hand. Not that it mattered in the end. They all agreed that Nott's appearance was planned but, again, nothing would ever be proved.

"He plays football rather well," Dumbledore said, to change the subject. Draco instantly smiled, and just as quickly became sullen again. He had no reason to be happy. "Moody insisted that I come see him play," Dumbledore added. "He never missed a single match." The smile, with great effort returned. Draco had been reminded that he still had his memories of the man to console him.

Dumbledore also noted, as he was leaving, that Draco should expect to receive a reward. A citation as well as a large number of points awarded to his house. When Draco pointed out that he was not a student, Dumbledore amended his statement. His former house. There were precedents. After the headmaster left, Draco muttered to Madam Pomfrey that he wasn't the only former student involved.

A short time later, Hermione and Justin appeared. They were nervous about how he would react. As they approached, Hermione lowered her eyes and told him she felt bad about what happened. Draco couldn't help himself.

"I know. Dumbledore told me he cancelled the finals."

* * *

It was a small relief that Fred and George appeared shortly afterward. Draco would be retelling his adventures one less time. And it was difficult because Draco knew how the tale ended. But first, Hermione would tell what happened to her.

There was the initial shock, she explained, of what happened with Draco. No one would say anything. All of the Weasleys were too angry to talk. Except Ginny. She would turn away and look embarrassed or ashamed, as though it was her fault. The teachers told her it was not a subject for discussion. Madam Pomfrey told her, specifically, that Draco was not allowed visitors. And then came the announcement about the expulsion. Hermione added bitterly that many of the students applauded.

The worst part was when they discovered Colin Creevey. He was found trying to take a picture of whatever had attacked him. Fred and George nodded in agreement. They added that the attack coincided with an article from the Daily Prophet that Draco had escaped from a 'mental institution'. That was when they decided to arrest Hagrid. They claimed he was involved. Draco made a contribution at this point, letting them know how the giant was involved.

"All the while," Hermione said, "I refused to believe what happened. I told Ginny and her brothers that there had to be another explanation. All of this was so unlike you. And then, with Hagrid gone, I knew there was something wrong. Something I wasn't seeing. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out why you heard a voice no one else did."

Draco nodded. "You let people know what you were doing, of course."

Hermione looked at Draco in surprise. "I should have realized. You let everyone know what you were doing and they stopped you. HE was controlling the basilisk."

"I was only in the wrong place at the wrong time," Justin commented.

"Yeah," Draco pointed out. "You were on your way to see us."

Justin nodded. "And met someone, something, going the same way."

Fred smirked, "I think we're all officially paranoid."

Draco should have smiled, but he had to frown. It was now his turn to share what had happened. Madam Pomfrey seemed to sense his mood and made them take a small break for some tea and biscuits. She made it a point to stay close by, as though she wanted to hear what happened, as well. But Draco knew her too well. She wanted to be close, just in case. Her young charge was recovering from a serious shock.

Draco told them easily enough about what happened early on. Hermione and Justin had both heard of Saint Brutus. Justin was particularly happy to hear what had happened. He had heard from his father too many stories. Fred and George were aghast that muggles would have such a place. When Hermione pointed out that Wizards had Azkaban Prison, they pointed out that it wasn't designed for children.

Moody's death was common knowledge by this time, and Draco was able to omit that part. What was hard was telling the good things that happened. Small memories kept surfacing. Moody talking about an incident during the war and stopping in mid sentence, turning to Draco and saying, "Make sure of everything. Don't take anything for granted. That one thing will trip you up every time." Then he went back to the original conversation. And the time Draco joined the football club. He came home to ask Moody, and Uncle Al handed him a pair of trainers, said he had already heard. While these and other thoughts swirled inside his head, he told of the events in the Chamber as thought they were happening to someone else. But he was unprepared for the reaction to his closing line.

"I believed Alastor when he told me he would only be petrified, right up to the moment when Billy Potter said he was sorry."

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "When did you talk to William Potter?"

"Not long before the celebration began. He said he was going to take a walk outside before it started." Draco had that feeling again. He felt it important to add, "He was the one who told me about Moody. He thought I knew. He got upset and ran out."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly.

"They haven't found him, yet?" Hermione asked.

"He's probably still asleep somewhere," Fred told her with little confidence. "It's only been what? Twelve hours? He'll show up when he gets hungry."

"I hope you're right," Hermione admitted.

"Naw," Draco said with authority. "He'll hide as long as he can. All he wants is attention. And he wasn't getting any by being around his folks. Not with PRECIOUS HARRY around to hog it all. That's why he wanted to take that walk in the first place."

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared that Friday at breakfast. Draco had barely eaten anything. He knew why the man was there, and he was prepared. Hermione and Justin had asked, and been given permission, to join him. It was time to say goodbye.

A portkey took them to a back road in the country, where a Ministry car was waiting for them. It would not be that long a drive, but it would avoid suspicion among the muggles.

And they arrived. The limousine pulled up to the cemetery's chapel and the four stepped out. The driver went to find a place to park because of the large number of cars. Kingsley opened the door to the chapel and Draco led the way inside.

Mitchell was standing there with his parents. His mother patted Draco's shoulder and said something in consolation. His father offered to escort them to their seats. Ephram and his parents were also at the chapel. He gave Draco a sad smile as he passed. And others in the town were there. Quite a few from the football club. Most of the neighbours. In one corner, obscured by the crowd, stood Andrew Givens and his family. Givens smiled consolingly when he caught Draco's eye. Kingsley Shacklebolt was greeting someone, perhaps the representative the Ministry of Magic. They seemed unsurprised that Moody had requested a muggle funeral. But Draco understood. Uncle Al wanted to stay with his family.

A minister said a few words about a man he knew too little of. Insular in his habits until fortune forced a young lad into his care. Then he spoke of how Moody involved himself in everything that Draco did. Things that Draco didn't know about. When the minister saw the look in Draco's face, his sermon became directed at one boy.

Moody talked with his teacher on a weekly basis. He arranged for the Club to make room for Draco. (A glance at Ephram resulted in the other boy nodding in the direction of Mitchell's Mother.) And Moody made it a point to get to know the parents of Draco's friends. The minister called Alastor Moody a quiet man who opened up when he knew someone needed him, and refused to shut himself up again.

The pallbearers came forward and picked up the coffin. Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of them. The minister mentioned that he had presented himself and asked for the privilege. Draco recognized one of the others as the bartender of the pub that Moody had taken him to.

It was a short walk. The Moody family had a plot not far from the chapel. A few final words were said, and it was over. They would go to the wake and, in a few hours, Draco would close another chapter in his life.

* * *

Draco had spotted one person in the chapel that he truly did not expect. Dudley. And a well-dressed Dudley as well. When they had a chance to talk, Dudley's first words were, "You didn't deserve this. It shouldn't have happened."

And then he had to explain. Inspector Givens had agreed to be his legal guardian. It happened after the incident at Saint Brutus. Draco mentioned seeing him on the news. Dudley added that his parents agreed. This way they could visit him. "I haven't said a word to them about you," Dudley added, "and neither has Andy." He added in a whisper, "Lying works. They believed me when I said I was misunderstood."

"Don't be sorry about anything you do, he told me once." Ephram's mom was talking to Detective Givens. "He said I should be sorry about all the things I didn't do. That's the type of man he was. I only wish Drake had come into his life sooner than he did. And how did you know him? After all, police work and animals don't usually mix."

Ephram snorted as Draco rolled his eyes. Givens smiled. "He was helpful in giving information about a school that was hiding the fact that vermin were infesting the place. He told us what to look for."

As Ephram told his parents what Givens' relationship to Draco really was, Mac pulled the blond boy aside.

"I want you to know. Al was my best friend when we were growing up. I'll miss him a great deal. Almost as much as you will." He paused. "If you need someone to confide in, you know where to find me."

"You knew about Uncle Al?"

"And you, oh lad of many names. And you're the only person I ever told."

Draco smiled. The terrible loss became less so. Now, he had a link. Someone who truly did understand. And he returned the favour, in a fashion. When he had the chance, he made it a point to introduce Mac to Hermione and Justin. Mac was genuinely surprised to meet Justin. He knew of the Finch-Fletchleys. While they were not famous, they were well known in certain circles.

When it was finally over, Detective Givens and Dudley walked with them to their car. Dudley had to explain to Hermione and Justin about his new home. That Givens was inspired by his willingness to support Draco, despite what his family had done. As Dudley played the gentleman and held the door for Hermione, he asked her to keep an eye on Draco. He didn't want anything more to happen to his cousin.

* * *

The ride back was uneventful. Hermione wanted to know about Draco's friends. Ephram and Mitchell seemed to be decent people. Justin smirked, saying it must be a boring place if they were the worst people he could find for friends.

Snide remarks abounded in Draco's head, but in the end all he did was sigh. He told Justin he was right. Nothing ever happened. Every day was different only because it had a different date. There was never an excuse not to do his homework. He never had to explain why he was in the bad part of town, because the town was too small. The bad part of town was in the town next door. He even ended up playing football just to have something to do.

And he knew why Kingsley laughed, and couldn't fault him for it. The man shared the anecdote about how he explained football to Bartemius Crouch, the Minister for Magic.

* * *

It was Monday afternoon.

"We're talking, again?" Severus Snape was watching his young friend carefully. It had been a long time since the two had last sat together in the dungeon office.

"Can only be sad for so long," Draco admitted. "Fred and George helped out. They decided to have a singing contest."

The Potions Professor was smiling. "Anyone who knows you also knows that you like attention. How did it go?"

"They talked me into going first. In the common room. In front of everyone. Then they told me I was the only contestant."

"The pirate song?"

Draco laughed at the memory from a year ago. "Naw. It was about little people. Like me."

"I'll make a deal with you, young man. Sing the song for me, and I will tell you something that isn't to be common knowledge . . . yet. And I guarantee it will make you happy."

"You'll tell me anyway." Draco laughed again when the Professor nodded his head. Then he sang.

_They laugh at me, these fellows, just because I am small_

_They laugh because I'm not a hundred feet tall_

_I tell them there's a lot to learn here on the ground_

_The world is big but little people turn it around_

_A worm can roll a stone, a bee can sting a bear_

_A fly can fly around Versailles 'cos flies don't care_

_A sparrow in a hat can build a happy home_

_A flea can bite the bottom of the pope in Rome_

Draco sang the entire song, complete with gestures, exactly as he did in the common room. And exactly how it was performed in front of him for the first time. Even to the point of wagging his finger at the Professor when he sang the lines:

_Never kick a dog because he just a pup_

_You better run for cover when the pup grows up_

Severus Snape applauded politely. As Draco sat down, he poured out the tea. "I would like to know where you learned that song."

* * *

Draco was running. He rarely came to the fancy parts of London. And now he had to make sure he lost his pursuers. He skipped into an alley and found a place to hide. Being small and wire for a nine-year-old, this was an easy thing to do. When it was safe, he began walking through the alley to the far end.

"And who are you?" someone called out. A boy his age, but taller. He was standing outside a door with some adults, all of them where dress in clothes from another time. Two or three were smoking cigarettes. The boy was dressed as well as Draco, but only if Draco had lived a hundred years ago, maybe longer.

"Name's Draco. Who are you?"

"'ow do you do. Me name's Gavroche."

"Yer French. Don't sound it."

"Naw. It ain't me real name. Is it Javert?"

A serious looking man snorted. "That is Inspector Javert." He eyed Draco with amusement. "You're not in trouble with the law, are you?"

Draco hesitated. "Ain't done nuthin'. Jus' 'avin' a ball is all."

"A ball?" Javert looked confused, but he was looking at the other adults. One of the others said, "Ball of Chalk. Going for a walk." Javert nodded, and turned back to Draco. "A walk? In an alley? And your parents?"

"Ain't got none."

"And you're free to roam."

"Gotta be back 'fore dark is all."

"Hold on," one of the others said, as he stepped forward to confront Draco. "Look, mate, I want you to say something. High society."

"'igh 'socie'y"

"And humble piety"

"An' 'umble pie'y"

"He's a natural," Gavroche laughed.

"Perhaps too natural," Javert replied with a chuckle.

"Wha' choo talkin' 'bout?" Draco demanded.

"Don't you know where you are?" Javert was surprised. "This is the Royal Theatre." When Draco merely stared, he added, "We're actors. In a play. Like television, but live."

Draco had heard of plays. He had even been in one at school. He played a giant bean. The teacher's nephew played Jack.

The door opened and someone said, "fifteen minutes."

"Let's bring him in to see the matinee," Gavroche suggested.

And they did. Draco sat backstage and watched the actors perform. He was enthralled. Gavroche's mother showed up after the play was over and was introduced to him. Someone suggested food, and Draco was dragged, with little resistance, to the fanciest restaurant he had ever been in. Which could have made it any restaurant in London, but that was beside the point. Gavroche used his acting voice the entire time; He claimed it was so that Draco could understand him. And, to the smaller boy's delight, taught him the words to the two songs he sang in the show. Everyone applauded Draco's singing.

One of the adults, at the end of the meal, gave Draco a card and suggested his guardian give a call. Draco thanked him politely and put the card in his pocket. On the way back to the home, Draco threw the card away. The last thing he needed to do was explain to Miss Carmichael what he was doing in that part of London. Especially since he was still in trouble from that incident at Harrod's the week before.

* * *

"I have no idea," Draco admitted. "Some fancy people, actors, I think, taught it to me over dinner. They liked the way I talked."

The Professor eyed Draco carefully. "Did you know that Professor Pettigrew left the school, this morning. It seems that your guardian, Sirius Black, sent word that he would be arriving . . ." He looked at his watch. ". . . sometime about now. Do you know why he was coming?"

Draco was confused. "I told him about the letter his friend wrote to that Doctor. He told me he would look into it. To prove I was a liar?"

Snape gave his favorite student his best smile. "He kept his word. Dumbledore mentioned to the staff this morning that Sirius Black would be coming by. That man may not be very bright, but he is honest to a fault when it comes to his duties. I fear you are not the one he proved a liar. As it is, a certain teacher concluded it was about making contact with the muggle world. As I said, Black isn't very bright. I am assuming that he told his friend what you had said."

"Cor. Pettigrew fled?"

"Exactly." Snape told him. Draco could see that Uncle Severus was enjoying himself. "The headmaster was planning to dismiss him because he deliberately defied the school's rules on ethics after Black told Dumbledore that he had Pettigrew's letter. And it seems that Peter was honest about one thing. The coward fled rather than have to answer to his friend."

"Will he go to jail?" Draco asked hopefully.

"No. Not for that. But he did start people thinking along certain lines. I know Dumbledore told you. About the Weasley girl."

"That someone used the Imperious Curse on her. Dumbledore said he had no idea who . . ." Draco understood what those certain lines were. There was now a suspect. But he had a question or two.

"How did you know all this?"

If possible, Snape's smile grew. "Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on our Defense Professor until he could be confronted with the facts. I . . . may have been . . . too obvious."

"And when they catch him?" Draco asked hopefully.

"A truth serum, knowing Bartemius Crouch. Why waste time. And, if the man is innocent, he wouldn't object."

Severus Snape was right. The news did make Draco happy.

* * *

It was the farewell feast. Draco tried to put on a cheerful face. It would be expected of him. But he was nervous as well. Crabbe and Goyle had confronted him earlier. They were smiling. "You did it again. Three times you faced him down," they told him. They thumped him on the back to show they were proud to be his friends.

And now he was back by the wall where he had sat on that night not too long ago. The amusing thing was that Hagrid was with him. Draco remembered seeing him when the giant returned, the haunted look on the man's face. And Hagrid, looking at him, forgetting his own problems when he saw that Draco had the same look.

"It will be goodby again," Draco said sadly.

"Yeah. And in two months yer comin' back to tell me all about yer holiday."

Draco snorted. "Two months with Sirius Black. I can get him to get rid of me in two weeks, tops." He looked up at Hagrid. "If I do it, can I stay with you until school starts."

Hagrid was beaming at those words. "Any time you want. But ye better learn a song about big people, like ye promised." Both their eyes danced at the memory of the first tea with the entire group. Hermione told them about the song. Justin said he had heard something about it. Draco mentioned that he sang it for Snape. And the giant insisted on hearing it.

Someone cleared her throat behind them.

"Is it time, Hermione?"

A laugh. "Draco, you sound like you're going to an execution. They only want to give you an award. And maybe a few hundred house points. You'll survive."

Hagrid patted Draco's shoulder. "And ye'll win the House Cup fer Gryffindor again."

"And you'll have done it honestly," Hermione concluded.

Draco shrugged his indifference but stood up anyway. He let himself be led to the Great Hall where it was obvious the feast was about to begin. To help his mood, when he first glanced at the Gryffindor table, he saw Longbottom without his usual sidekick.

"Hermione?" Draco dared to ask.

She followed his eyes, then turned back and shook her head. There had been no word yet about Harry Potter's brother. The boy had disappeared two weeks ago without a trace. And Potter was already home, with parents more anxious and worried than they had ever been before. Draco almost felt sorry for him. As he sat down between Hermione and Dean Thomas, he muttered, "This is going to be fun."

"Look behind you," said Ron Weasley, who was sitting across from them. "We're about to have company."

"Is that . . ." Hermione began to ask when she turned her head.

"MYRTLE!" Draco was surprised and, he had to admit, delighted as she hovered near him. "You Came!"

"I'm supposed to be here," she told him. "Madam Pomfrey told me what is going to happen." She leaned into him and whispered into his ear, "You'll like it, even though you won't win." She blew him a kiss as she floated away to rejoin the Grey Lady.

Draco blushed lightly at the gesture and turned back to his own table. He had the misfortune of seeing Fred and George, who immediately began making kissy faces at him, to the delight of everyone around them.

Dumbledore began to speak, and Draco's thought's turned back to his own problems. He was about to receive his moment of glory. A moment he no longer wanted. Dumbledore was talking about another school year ending, one that was more exciting than most.

"As you can see," the headmaster exclaimed, "we have not yet put up the banners to show this year's winner. The totals, so far, are Hufflepuff with 402 points, Gryffindor with 438 points, Ravenclaw with 456 point and Slytherin with 476 points. And, it should be obvious, because of recent events, that we have more points to present." A pause. Dumbledore made it clear who he was looking at.

"Draco Malfoy was expelled from this school, unfairly, and has yet to be reinstated although that will happen in time for him to join us again as a student in the new school year. Because of services he has rendered to this school under extraordinary circumstances, we award his 'former' house, Gryffindor, two hundred points."

The table cheered, except for one blond boy. And the cheers died quickly enough when Dumbledore held his hands up to show that he was not done. Everyone understood why Dumbledore stopped their celebration. Gryffindor would not win the house cup.

"Mister Malfoy did not act alone." Dumbledore's eyes were fixed on Moaning Myrtle. "Myrtle Mulberry, even though she had been a ghost for fifty years, chose to help her friend knowing what she would face, and not knowing with any certainty if she would remain unharmed by it. In a difficult moment, she chose a wise path and remained true to her friend. For this, we award her former house, Ravenclaw, two hundred points."

Now, it was Ravenclaw's turn to applaud. They had been so close, and now they had a clear lead over Slytherin. And Draco let out a cheer. Never had he seen Myrtle so happy. The Ravenclaws were standing now, and applauding her. Their applause, too, died down, after a while, as the headmaster let it be known that he had more to say.

"Before I put up the banners, I need to remind everyone that a third person was with them. A former auror who was well liked by his peers and admired for his skills. He came out of retirement specifically to solve the mystery of the Chamber. In the end, he willingly sacrificed his own life so that others would live and that a great evil could be defeated." With a wave of his hand, glasses of wine appeared in front of everyone, teachers and students alike. Dumbledore held up a glass of his own. "I would ask everyone to drink with me, one final toast. To Alastor Moody."

Draco took his glass. Instinctively, he sniffed at it and smiled. His wine was mostly water. He raised his glass, with everyone else, and they called out: "TO ALASTOR MOODY". His own glass was downed in one gulp, and he set it back on the table. And he did feel better. The toast was a fitting goodbye. And a friend worse off than he had won her house the cup. He looked over to where Myrtle was, and she smiled at him. And pointed eagerly toward Dumbledore.

"It is only appropriate," Dumbledore was saying, "that such sacrifice should count for more in any award to his former house. As all of the Heads of House have agreed, we therefore award three hundred points . . . to Hufflepuff."

* * *

"They should have let you win," Draco said. They were with a small group, outside again, enjoying the night air.

"No." Myrtle's voice had a wistfulness to it. "Then everyone would want me to be there. And, I'm used to being alone whenever I want." She smiled at Draco. "You'll come visit me, won't you?"

"Not often enough," Draco admitted, sheepishly.

She came close to him, but Draco didn't mind that they were being watched. This time, he kept his eyes open. They did a passable imitation of a goodbye kiss. And Myrtle faded away to go back to her bathroom.

To their credit, no one laughed. Neither Hermione, Justin nor the twins. Not until Lee Jordan asked if it was true that he once spent eight hours alone with her. There was a noise, and they turned to see the one person in the school smaller than Draco.

"I wanted to thank you," Colin told him. "For what you did for me. For all of us."

"You're not scared of me?"

Colin smiled. "Every time I ran into trouble, you WEREN'T there."

"Not as much trouble as I've had."

Hermione put her hand on his arm. "It's okay."

"No. It isn't," Draco snarled. "Look what I've been through? Accused of a terrible crime. Locked up. Poisoned. Forced to hide. I finally found someone I could trust, only to have him killed, and then I got poisoned again." Someone, Draco did not know who, started to say something. "And that's not all." His voice became harsh. "Do you know what I have to look forward to? Voldemort is going to keep trying to come back. And when he does, guess who's on his list of people he doesn't want around? Someone in this school is still trying to kill me. Longbottom is hinting that I had something to do with the fact that Potter's brother's gone missing. And I know I haven't heard all the rumours yet about how Evil Malfoy beat out the competition, again. And to add icing to the cake, Sirius Black, who probably hates me more than I hate him, is my legal guardian. I get to spend the next two months with him."

"That last part sounds horrible," Justin admitted.

A smile forced its way to Draco's lips. "Yeah. Sucks to be me, don't it?"


End file.
